THE  FINE  ARTS. 


HISTORY 


OF 

SCULPTURE,  PAINTING, 


AND 


ARCHITECTURE. 


BY  J.  S.  MEMBS,  Lili.  D » 


BOSTON: 

CLAPP    AND  BROADERS 
SCHOOL  STREET 

1834. 


THE  VERY  KKVEREND 

WILLIAM  JACK,  D.  D. 

PRINCIPAL  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  KING'S  COLLEGE,  ABERDEEN 
IN  GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE  OF 
EARLY    KINDNESS   AM)   CONTINUED  FRIENDSHIP. 
\ND 

AS  A  SINCERE  THOUGH  INADEQUATE  TRIBUTE 
Oy  MOST  PROFOUND  RESPECT 
FOR  HIS 

Virtues,  learning,  talents,  and  integrity, 

THIS  VOLUME, 
WITH  SENTIMENTS  OF  THE  HIGHEST  ESTEEM, 

IS  INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 
Taste  —  Principles  of  Imitative  Art   1 

SCULPTURE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

Egyptian  and  Oriental  Sculpture  —  Indian  Monuments   .    .  15 
CHAPTER  II. 

Early  Schools  of  Greece  —  Perfection  of  Material  Art     .    .  34 

CHAPTER  III. 

Ideal  Art  —  Phidias  —  Elgin  Marbles  —  Methods  of  Composi- 
tion Among  the  Greek  Sculptors  49 

CHAPTER  IV. 
School  of  Beauty  —  Lysippus   and   Praxiteles  —  Historical 

Remarks   60 

CHAPTER  V. 

Sculpture  in  Ancient  Italy  —  Etruscan  Art  —  Roman  Busts  — 

Decline  69 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Revival  of  Sculpture  in  Italy  —  Italian  Republics  —  Influence 


of  Liberty  —  Early  Schools  of  Modern  Art     ....  79 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Michael  Angelo  and  his  Contemporaries  84 

CHAPTER  VIII. 


School  of  Bernini  —  Decline  of  Sculpture  —  Causes  of  Decay  94 
CHAPTER  IX. 

Revival  —  Canova  —  Thorwaldsen  —  Flaxman  —  Conclusion  1 01 


PAINTING. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Ancient  Painting  —  Schools  of  Greece  —  Zeuxis,  Appelles  — 

Historical  Remarks  117 

CHAPTER  XL 

Modern  Schools  in  Italy  —  Roman,  Raphael  —  Florentine, 
Michael  Angelo  —  Comparison  between  the  two  —  Lom- 
bard School,  Coreggio  —  Venetian  School.  Titian  —  Ec- 
lectic School,  Caracci   130 

CHAPTER  XII. 
German  School,  Holbein,  Daur  —  Flemish  School,  Rubens, 
Vandyke  —  Dutch    School,   Teniers  —  French  School, 
David  —  Anecdote  of  Napoleon   153 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

English  School  —  Historical  Remarks  —  Causes  of  Inferiority 
in  the  Art  —  Influence  of  the  Reformation  not  Hostile  to 
the  Fine  Arts  in  Britain.  &c   174 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
English  School  continued  —  History  —  Portrait  —  Landscape 
—  Reynolds  —  West  —  Wilson  —  Laurence  —  Defects  of 
English  Style  —  Conclusion  190 


ARCHITECTURE. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Early  History  and  Principles   of  Architectural  Design  — 

Egyptian  —  Syrian  —  Indian  Architecture  227 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Greek  Architecture — Three  Orders:  Doric  Remains,  Ionic 
Remains,  Corinthian  Remains  —  Roman  Architecture  — 
Decline  \  248 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages  —  Divisions  of  the  Gothic  — 
Revival  of  Classic  Architecture  —  Italian,  French,  and 
English  Masters  —  Conclusion  278 


PREFACE. 


The  present  volume  is  offered  to  the  public,  under  the 
impression  that  the  general  cultivation  of  practical  taste,  and 
an  acquaintance  with  the  principles  of  the  Fine  Arts,  are  not 
only  desirable  in  the  light  of  acquirement,  but  must  eventu- 
ally prove  highly  beneficial  to  the  useful  arts  of  the  country, 
The  subject,  therefore,  seemed  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  very 
excellent  Publication  of  which  this  forms  a  portion.* 

It  is  only  bespeaking  that  share  of  confidence  due,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  opportunities  of  research,  to  state,  that  in 
the  following  pages  not  a  single  work  of  art  is  made  the  sub- 
ject of  criticism,  the  original  of  which  the  author  has  not  seen 
and  examined.  Indeed,  the  substance  of  his  remarks  is  gen- 
erally transcribed  from  notes  taken  with  the  statue,  or  picture, 
or  building,  before  him.  The  best  authorities,  also,  have 
been  consulted,  and  such  as  from  their  price  or  rarity  are 
within  reach  of  few  readers.  The  historical  details  of  Classic 
Art  are  chiefly  the  result  of  inquiries  connected  with  a  work 
on  Grecian  Literature,  the  composition  of  which  has  long 
engaged  his  hours  of  leisure.  J.  S.  M. 


*  Constable's  Miscellany. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Taste  is  the  perception  of  intellectual  pleasure.  Beauty, 
the  object  of  taste  and  the  source  of  this  pleasure,  is  ap- 
preciated by  the  understanding,  exercised,  either  upon  the 
productions  of  art,  or  upon  the  works  of  nature.  The 
term  beauty,  indeed,  has  appeared  to  admit  a  specific  dif- 
ference of  import,  according  to  the  diversity  of  objects  in 
which  it  may  seem  to  reside,  and  the  supposed  variety  of 
means  through  which  it  is  perceived  by  the  mind.  This 
cause,  more  than  any  other,  has  tended  to  throw  difficulty 
and  inconclusive  inference  over  every  department  of  the 
subject.  Yet,  perhaps  in  all  cases,  most  certainly  in  eve- 
ry instance  of  practical  importance  to  our  present  purpose 
« — elucidation  of  the  Fine  Arts,  beauty  will  be  found  re- 
solvable into  some  relation  discerned  and  approved  by  the 
understanding.  Hence  the  objects  in  which  this  relation 
exists  impart  pleasure  to  the  mind,  on  the  well  known 
principles  of  its  constitution. 

But  in  all  languages,  the  word  beauty  is  applied  to  the 
results  of  those  operations  of  the  intellectual  powers, 
which  are  not  commonly  recognised  as  appertaining  to 
any  province  of  taste.  Thus  we  speak  of  the  beauty  of 
a  theorem,  of  an  invention,  of  a  philosophical  system  or 
1 


2 


INTRODUCTION. 


discovery,  as  frequently,  and  with  the  same  propriety,  as  of 
a  picture  or  a  group  of  statuary,  of  a  landscape  or  a  build- 
ing. Correspondent  to  these  objective  modes  of  speech, 
we  find,  in  every  polished  idiom,  such  causative  forms  as 
these  —  a  taste  for  the  mathematics,  for  mechanics,  for 
philology,  or  science.  Now,  in  these,  and  similar  instan- 
ces, in  which  a  like  manner  of  expression  by  the  common 
sentiment  of  mankind,  opposed  to  the  opinion  of  certain 
writers,  is  rightly  applied,  relations  furnishing  the  specific 
beauty  of  the  subjects  are  perceived,  and  pleasurable 
emotions  are  excited.  What  then  constitutes  the  essen- 
tial difference  between  the  beautiful  in  general  language, 
and  the  beautiful  in  the  fine  arts  ]  or,  which  is  identical, 
the  difference  between  the .  powers  of  judgment  and  of 
taste  ?  Shall  we  say  with  some,  that  to  decide  on  the  rev 
lations  of  truth  and  falsehood,  is  the  sole  province  of  the 
judgment  or  understanding?  But  in  the  fine  arts,  to 
whose  labours,  taste,  by  these  philosophers,  is  confined, 
truth  is  beauty,  falsehood  deformity ;  hence,  to  discrimi- 
nate between  even  their  minutest  shades,  requires  the  con- 
stant exercise  of  the  most  refined  taste.  Or,  shall  we  main- 
tain with  others,  that  beauty  consists  in  certain  arrange- 
ments and  proportions  of  the  parts  to  a  whole ;  or  in  the 
fitness  of  means  to  an  end  ?  This,  as  far  as  an  intelligible 
description  of  beauty,  applies  equally  to  the  pursuits  of  the 
philosopher  and  of  the  artist.  Or,  omitting  almost  innu- 
merable minor  theories,  shall  we  say  with  the  philosophy 
presently  accepted,  that  beauty  is  something  not  intrinsic  in 
the  beautiful  object,  but  dependent  on  associations  awaken- 
ed in  the  mind  of  the  spectator  ?  Without  entering  now 
into  an  examination  of  this  important,  because  received 
opinion,  we  remark,  that  this  definition  of  beauty,  from 
its  associated  pleasures,  is  applicable  alike  to  the  deduc- 
tions of  science,  to  the  exercises  of  imagination,  and  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 


the  disquisitions  of  taste.  Indeed,  as  the  discoveries  of 
the  philosopher,  and  the  truths  which  he  discloses,  are 
both  more  abiding  in  their  nature,  and  in  their  influence 
more  universally  important  and  interesting,  it  would  fol- 
low, even  on  the  system  of  association,  that  the  beauty  of 
scientific  truth  must  be,  at  least,  equally  fruitful  in  pleas- 
urable emotions,  as  the  beauty  of  any  one  object  in  those 
pursuits  to  which  this  system  has  hitherto  been  restricted. 
And  that  such  is  actually  the  case,  may  be  proved  by  an 
appeal  to  the  writings  and  the  annals  of  men  of  study. 
The  law  of  gravitation,  to  take  a  familiar  instance,  pos- 
sesses an  essential  principle  of  the  beautiful  —  simplicity. 
Accordingly,  to  a  mind  of  any  refinement,  the  abstract 
contemplation  of  this  theory  will  ever  impart  high  delight. 
Yet,  how  imperfect  is  the  pleasure,  and  even  the  beauty, 
till  the  mind  associates  with  this  simple  law,  that  thereby 
worlds  are  governed  in  their  course  through  boundless 
space ;  that  by  the  same  discovery,  the  future  generations 
of  rational  and  immortal  beings  will  be  directed  in  their 
most  useful  and  loftiest  speculations ;  and  to  all  this  mag- 
nificence of  association,  what  tender  sublimity  will  be 
added,  by  the  thought,  that  the  Supreme  Father  of  all  has 
graciously  endowed  his  creatures  with  powers,  and  with 
permission,  to  discern  the  secondary  laws  by  which  infi- 
nite wisdom  sees  fit  to  rule  in  the  visible  creation ! 

Even  the  holier  and  lovelier  sensibilities  awakened  by 
moral  beauty,  though  certainly  distinct  in  principle,  are  in 
their  influence  not  easily  separable  from  the  pleasures  of 
taste.  At  least,  by  the  wise  and  gracious  constitution  of 
the  human  heart,  the  latter,  when  unallied  with  the  form- 
er, necessarily  remain  imperfect.  Our  most  exquisite  en- 
joyments in  literature  and  the  fine  arts  will  be  found  to 
arise  from  such  performances  as  most  directly  remind  us 
of  virtuous  associations;  while,  in  the  material  world, 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


those  scenes  prove  most  delightful  which  call  forth  recol- 
lections of  man's  nobleness,  or  which  elevate  our  contem- 
plations to  the  power,  and  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  the 
Creator.  In  one  important  point,  however,  is  at  once  dis- 
coverable the  independent  and  higher  principle  of  moral 
pleasure  and  beauty.  The  humble  and  pious  mind  may, 
often  does,  enjoy  the  most  refined  and  mental  gratification 
in  the  exercises  of  charity  and  devotion,  while  the  intellec- 
tual resources  or  the  adornments  of  taste  are  extremely  cir- 
cumscribed. How  wise,  how  salutary,  are  these  appoint- 
ments !  The  possessor  of  the  most  cultivated  perceptions 
and  extensive  knowledge,  thus  feels,  if  he  feel  aright,  that 
his  acquirements  render  him  only  the  more  dependent 
upon  religion  and  virtue  for  his  best  and  purest  enjoy- 
ments, as  also  for  the  dignified  estimation  of  his  pursuits. 
The  unlettered  but  sincere  Christian,  again,  thus  knows 
that  his  heartful  joys  suffer  not  alloy  from  ignorance  of 
this  world's  external  culture.  Both  are  thus  equal ;  yet 
each  profits  by  his  own  peculiar  good.  The  latter  is 
secure  against  a  deprivation  imposed  by  temporal  circum- 
stances :  the  former  is  paid  the  toil  and  self-denial  of  at- 
tainment, by  the  increased  manifestations  he  is  thus  ena- 
bled to  discern  of  the  charms  of  virtue,  and  the  goodness 
of  Omnipotence. 

The  presence  and  operation  of  taste  can  thus  be  traced 
in  every  act  of  the  mind,  and  are  intimately  associated 
with  the  feelings  of  our  moral  nature.  The  exercises  of 
taste  have  ever  been  regarded  as  productive  generally  of 
pleasurable  emotion.  Hence  we  consider  ourselves  justi- 
fied in  defining,  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  taste  to 
be  '  the  perception  of  intellectual  pleasure.'  The  com- 
mon use  of  language,  also  —  an  authority  always  to  be 
respected  in  tracing  the  extent  or  import  of  ideas  —  and 
even  the  best  theories  of  taste,  when  rightly  understood, 
coincide  with  this  definition. 


INTRODUCTION. 


5 


The  various  systems  of  taste,  however  apparently  dis- 
similar, may  be  referred  in  principle  to  one  or  other  of  the 
two  following  :  that  this  is  an  original  and  independent  fac- 
ulty ;  or,  that  it  may  be  resolved  into  a  modification  of  the 
general  powers  of  the  mind.  Of  these  opinions,  the  first 
has  been,  within  the  present  century,  satisfactorily  proved 
utterly  unphilosophical  and  inadequate  to  its  purpose ;  the 
second  is  preferable,  but  imperfect  in  the  explications  hither- 
to given,  chiefly  from  three  causes.  First,  writers  have  form- 
ed their  conclusions  from  a  consideration  of  the  quality,  in 
its  full  and  complete  exercise,  instead  of  tracing  the  steps  by 
which  it  is  acquired  or  improved  :  secondly,  this  intellectual 
quality,  even  by  the  best  writers,  has  been  treated  too  much 
as  an  external  sense  —  or  it  has  been  resolved  into  direct 
and  inflex  perceptions,  and  confounded  with  so  many  ac- 
cidental feelings,  that  the  inferences  have  been  most  per- 
plexing and  cumbrous  :  and,  thirdly,  the  subject  in  general 
has  been  treated  too  metaphysically.  Hence,  however  learn- 
ed, or  even  abstractly  just,  the  investigations  may  have 
been,  they  have  exerted  slight  influence  in  establishing 
practice  upon  obvious  and  enlightened  theory. 

But  declining  to  enter  upon  the  exposure  of  what  may 
be  conceived  former  mistakes,  we  shall  proceed  briefly  to 
explain  our  own  views.  Following  out,  then,  the  tenor  of 
the  preceding  remarks,  we  conceive  taste  to  be  nothing 
more  than  a  certain  acuteness,  which  necessarily  is  ac- 
quired by,  and  always  accompanies,  the  frequent  exercise 
of  the  powers  of  understanding  in  any  one  given  pursuit. 
It  seems  to  differ  from  mere  knowledge,  in  being  attended 
by  a  love  or  desire  of  the  the  particular  exercise.  This 
desire,  whether  it  precedes  or  follows  acquirement,  is 
easily  accounted  for,  in  the  one  case,  as  an  agreeable  an- 
ticipation of  advantage  to  be  gained,  and  in  the  other  as 
a  mental  habitude ;  or  it  is  frequently  cherished  from  im- 
1* 


G 


INTRODUCTION. 


pressions  received  at  an  age  too  early  for  notice.  The 
gratification  of  this  desire,  exclusive  even  of  the  enjoy- 
ment received  from  the  successful  exercise  of  the  mental 
powers,  sufficiently  explains  the  origin  of  the  pleasures  of 
taste. 

This  view  of  taste,  as  applicable  to,  and  indeed  result- 
ing from,  training  of  the  understanding  in  all  dignified 
pursuits,  is  agreeable,  as  already  shown,  to  common  feel- 
ing and  common  language.  But  in  deference  to  the  same 
authorities,  it  is  necessary  to  limit  the  idea  to  a  restricted, 
that  is,  a  proper  sense  of  the  word.  Hence  we  have  said 
that  the  object  of  taste  is  beauty,  as  perceivable  in  the 
works  of  nature  and  art :  thus  confining  its  province  to 
literature  and  the  fine  arts,  which  reflect  nature  either  by 
direct  imitation,  or  by  more  remote  association. 

In  the  present  volume,  the  subject  is  limited,  of  course, 
to  the  arts  of  design ;  but  the  principles  now  expounded 
are  conversant  with  every  varied  application  of  taste  :  And 
we  have  pursued  this  extent  of  illustration  throughout  the 
whole  powers  of  the  mind,  in  order  to  ground,  on  the 
broadest  basis,  this  practical  precept,  that  taste,  like  the 
powers  of  judgment  and  understanding,  of  which,  in  fact, 
it  is  only  a  modification,  can  be  improved,  or,  we  venture 
to  say,  acquired  in  any  useful  degree,  only  by  patient  cul- 
tivation, and  well-directed  study  of  the  particular  subject. 
The  opinion  opposite  to  this  has  been  productive  of  the 
worst  effects,  both  in  the  practice  and  patronage  of  the 
arts.  It  not  unfrequently  has  led  artists  into  irregular,  and 
even  unnatural  compositions  ;  but  its  greatest  evils  do  daily 
arise  from  those,  whose  previous  habits  and  attainments  by 
no  means  qualify  them  for  judges,  confidently  pronouncing 
upon  works  of  art,  from  what  they  are  pleased  to  term  a 
natural  taste.  This,  if  it  means  any  thing,  must  imply  an 
untutored,  and  therefore,  imperfect  taste.    We  would  be 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


understood  here,  not  as  advocating  a  conventional  criticism, 
but  as  maintaining,  that  the  higher  beauties,  and  nobler 
principles  of  art,  can  be  appreciated  only  by  those  whose 
taste  has  been  cultivated  by  profound  study  and  knowledge 
of  these  principles.  One  class  of  effects  in  an  imitative 
art  is,  doubtless,  to  produce  sensations  which  can  be  im- 
mediately compared  with  the  more  obvious  effects  and  ap- 
pearances of  nature.  Of  these  every  one  can  judge, 
whether  the  effect  be  actually  produced  or  not.  This, 
however,  though  a  primary,  is  the  lowest  object  of  the 
artist.  The  dignity,  too,  and  comparative  value,  of  these 
effects,  can  be  estimated  only  by  a  mind  generally  culti- 
vated ;  while  the  propriety  of  the  means  employed,  and 
their  agreement  with  the  modes  of  art,  the  higher  beauties 
of  execution,  the  intelligence  of  style,  the  just  character 
of  the  performance  as  a  work  of  peculiar  talents,  can  be 
sanctioned  by  canons  of  judgment  familiar  only  to  those 
who  have  made  the  subject  a  regular  study.  In  this  we 
require  nothing  more  for  the  sculptor  and  the  painter  than 
is  demanded,  and  rightly  too,  in  favour  of  the  poet  and  the 
orator. 

From  these  observations,  founded,  as  they  are,  on  ex- 
perience, follows  as  a  corollary  the  truth  of  the  previous 
definition,  that,  in  the  fine  arts,  beauty  is  always  resolva- 
ble into  some  effect  or  relation  discerned  and  approved  by 
the  understanding.  For  since  it  has  been  shown  that  taste 
is  but  another  name  for  intellectual  cultivation  and  knowl- 
edge in  a  given  pursuit,  the  perception  of  beauty,  which 
forms  the  peculiar  object  of  taste,  must  ultimately  be  re- 
ferred to  the  understanding.  Now,  in  an  imitative  art, 
there  can  be  only  one  relation,  namely,  truth,  which  thus 
becomes  both  the  source  and  the  criterion  of  beauty.  This 
truth,  however,  admits  of  two  specific  distinctions ;  or  at 
least  respects  two  separate  objects,  as  the  production  is 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


compared  with  nature,  the  archetype  imitated ;  and  with 
the  principles  of  the  art,  or  peculiar  mode  of  imitation. 
In  the  one  case,  there  is  the  relation  of  resemblance ;  in 
the  other,  that  of  consistency.  These,  in  their  infinitely 
various  combinations  and  modified  excellences,  still  recur 
to  one  and  the  same  simple  law  of  the  beautiful — veracity. 

The  general  spirit  and  tendency  of  these  remarks  bear 
directly  on  the  question  regarding  a  standard  of  taste. 
Both  parties  here,  in  pertinaciously  adhering  to  their  opin- 
ion, are  wrong.  There  is,  and  there  is  not,  a  standard  ; 
meaning,  by  this  term,  a  permanent  rule  of  taste  beyond 
which  human  invention  or  genius  shall  never  pass.  At 
the  same  time,  if  there  be  no  stable  and  unerring  princi- 
ples of  judgment,  there  can  be  neither  merit  nor  moral 
dignity,  beauty  nor  truth,  in  the  works  of  the  most  gifted 
mind.  How,  then,  are  facts  seemingly  so  discordant  to 
be  reconciled  ?  We  have  already  adverted  to  the  radi- 
cal error  in  all  cases  of  disregarding,  and  in  some  instan- 
ces of  treating  with  scorn,  the  idea  of  a  gradual  and 
laborious  acquirement  of  taste.  This,  however,  will  be 
found  the  only  idea  of  the  subject  truly  useful  in  a  prac- 
tical view,  as  well  as  the  sole  ground  of  consistent  and 
rational  theory.  Taste  is  not  only  progressive,  but  induc- 
tive ;  it  is,  in  fact,  the  result  of  a  series  of  experiments 
whose  object  is  beauty.  As  in  every  other  species  of  ex- 
perimental knowledge,  then,  the  standard  of  excellence 
must  vary  in  different  ages  according  to  their  lights  and 
their  refinement.  In  the  progress  of  individual  genius 
this  succession  is  very  remarkable,  the  objects  and  nature 
of  its  aims  changing  with,  and  indeed  indicating,  attain- 
ment. It  is  thus  clear  that  taste,  whether  nationally  or 
individually  considered,  must  vary  in  its  models,  and  in 
their  standards,  according  to  the  existing  state  of  know- 
edge  ;  for,  in  departing  from  received  precepts,  men  are 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


guided  by  the  hope  of  reaching  higher  perfection,  or  of 
exhibiting  novelty  of  invention.  If  such  tentative  meas- 
ures succeed,  the  general  standard  is  so  far  elevated  ; 
when  they  fail,  though  the  advance  of  real  improvement 
may  be  impeded  for  a  season,  established  modes  more 
firmly  recover  their  authority.  But  again,  as  in  every 
species  of  experimental  science,  those  researches,  in  their 
practice  the  most  carefully  conducted,  and  in  their  infer- 
ences the  most  consistent,  are  regarded  as  the  canons  of 
scientific  truth ;  so  in  the  liberal  arts,  those  noble  monu- 
ments which,  during  the  longest  period,  and  to  the  great- 
est number  of  competent  judges,  have  yielded  the  most 
satisfaction,  are  justly  esteemed  standards  of  taste  —  rules 
by  which  other  works  are  to  be  tried.  Such  standards, 
or  final  experiments,  in  the  science  of  taste,  are  fortunate- 
ly possessed  in  the  literary  compositions,  and  in  the  re- 
mains of  the  sculpture  and  architecture  of  antiquity ;  as 
also  in  the  labours  of  those  moderns  who  have  emulated 
the  teachers  of  the  olden  time.  These  accredited  relics  of 
genius  obtain  a  deserved  and  venerable  mastery  over 
future  aspirings,  first,  from  their  own  inborn  excellence ; 
secondly,  from  the  effects  of  that  excellence  in  a  contin- 
ually increasing  influence  over  association  and  feeling. 
Imagination  thus  combines  with  reason  in  hallowing  both 
the  original  cause  and  the  attendant  influence  into  pre- 
cepts of  an  immutable  authority,  consecrated  by  the  suffra- 
ges of  the  wise  and  the  refined  of  every  later  age.  Reason, 
however,  first  established,  and  subsequently  demonstrates, 
the  principles  upon  which  this  standard  has  become  un- 
changed and  unchangable ;  namely,  perfect  simplicity  in 
the  means,  and  perfect  truth  in  the  results,  through  all 
their  varied  combinations. 

Consideration  even  of  the  vicissitudes  and  revolutions 
in  taste  seems  farther  to  confirm  these  general  views. 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


Opinion,  indeed,  has  vacillated  in  the  estimation  of 
elegance  ;  but,  as  in  the  constantly  returning  eccentrici- 
ties of  a  planetary  body,  some  secret  power  has  maintain- 
ed certain  limits  to  these  changes,  and  round  certain 
principles,  though  at  times  obscured,  art  has  continued  to 
revolve.  Now  these  checks  to  barbarous  novelty  and  in- 
novation, have  been  derived  from  the  not-altogether4br- 
gotten  remembrance  of  admitted  standards,  or  from  the 
natural  effects  upon  which  these  have  been  founded.  The 
temporary  derelictions  of  good  taste  have  ever  occurred  in 
the  most  ignorant  ages,  and  in  extent  as  in  duration  have 
corresponded  with  the  intellectual  darkness  of  the  period  ; 
the  returning  light  of  knowledge  has  in  this  respect  also 
invariably  dispelled  error,  afresh  disclosing  the  pristine 
beauty  of  the  ancient  models,  and  recalling  the  judgment 
to  the  rectitude  of  those  precepts  on  which  they  are  com- 
posed. Even  the  tyranny  of  fashion  and  the  inveteracy  of 
prejudice  yield  before  the  majesty  of  antique  excellence, 
or  produce  a  passing  absurdity  adopted  for  a  day,  to  be 
forever  forgotten.  Surely,  then,  there  must  be  in  these 
abiding  modes  in  literature  and  art,  as  likewise  in  that 
science  of  taste  which  appreciates  and  determines  their 
canons,  a  beauty  —  an  excellence,  the  offspring  and  the  ob- 
ject of  truth  and  reason  —  and  like  these,  ever  consistent, 
immutable,  imperishable. 

To  the  doctrines  now  advocated  it  furnishes  no  objec- 
tion, that  mankind  do  not  agree  in  the  same  estimate  of 
beauty,  nor  even  that  objects  entirely  different  in  their 
qualities,  are  assumed  as  beautiful.  This  fact,  indeed, 
has  often  and  triumphantly  been  adduced  as  conclusive  in 
favour  of  the  sceptical  position  regarding  a  standard  of 
taste.  Those  writers,  again,  who  support  the  opposite 
opinion,  seem  too  readily  to  have  admitted  difficulty  in  re- 
pelling the  objection.    The  truth  is;  it  can  be  obviated 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


only  on  the  principle  which  we  have  endeavoured  to  es- 
tablish ;  namely,  that  taste  is  the  certain  result  of  intellec- 
tual cultivation  in  the  proper  province,  that  it  is  conse- 
quently commensurate  with  the  degree  of  intelligence, 
and  always  an  object  of  truth  and  reason.  Now,  the 
diversity  so  much  insisted  upon,  is  capable  not  only  of 
being  thus  easily  accounted  for,  but  is  to  be  expected  as 
the  necessary  effect  of  varied  extent  of  knowledge.  The 
very  objection  predetermines,  that  among  the  rudest 
people,  ideas  and  perceptions  of  something  termed  beauty 
are  entertained.  Does  not  this  establish  the  existence  of 
taste  coeval  with  the  earliest  traces  of  information  ?  True, 
the  beauty  admired  by  the  African  or  the  Esquimaux  dif- 
fers from  that  which  awakens  the  sensibility  of  the  Euro- 
pean,—  but  so  also  are  their  means  and  capabilities  of 
judging  unequal.  It  is  not,  therefore,  diversity,  but  in- 
consistency of  judgment,  that  in  this  case  can  prove  the 
absence  of  all  fixed  principles  of  decision.  Now,  we  will 
venture  to  affirm,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  there 
is  no  inconsistency  nor  opposition ;  and  that  the  most 
polished  inhabitant  of  Europe,  proceeding  upon  the  same 
premises  as  the  wildest  in-dweller  of  the  desert  or  savan- 
nah, will  arrive  at  exactly  the  same  conclusion.  The 
sable  virgin,  for  instance,  whose  charms  are  acknowledg- 
ed by  the  rude  warriors  of  her  tribe,  will  also,  by  the  re- 
fined European,  be  admitted  among  the  fairest  examples 
of  native  beauty.  Hence  it  is  evident  that  all  men  ac- 
knowledge a  standard  of  taste,  founded  on  similar  reason- 
ings and  accordant  feelings  of  the  human  heart,  though 
the  final  expression  of  this  standard,  or  the  degree  of  re- 
finement whence  it  is  deduced,  will  necessarily  be  modi- 
fied by  moral  and  physical  circumstances,  and  by  the  light 
enjoyed. 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  questions  we  have  now  laboured  to  resolve,  are  by 
no  means  to  be  regarded  as  mere  problems  in  abstract 
speculation.  The  subject  is  of  the  highest  practical  im- 
portance, and  we  have  attempted  to  reduce  it  to  practical 
inferences.  Nothing  has  tended  more  to  retard  improve- 
ment, than  placing  genius  and  taste  in  opposition  to  reason 
and  application.  Each  of  the  two  former  has  been  in- 
vested with  some  untangible,  undefined  excellence,  dis- 
daining rule,  and  superior  to  the  drudgery  of  study.  In 
treating  of  both,  authors  appear  to  have  aimed  at  exalting 
their  theme,  by  refusing  certainty  to  the  operations  of  the 
one,  and  stability  to  the  principles  of  the  other ;  treating 
each  as  the  empiricism  of  talent,  which  it  would  be  as 
vain  to  attempt  reducing  to  precept  as  to  prescribe  the 
eagle's  path  through  heaven.  But  how  does  this  accord 
with  fact  and  with  usefulness?  Men,  the  most  eminent 
for  genius,  and  who  have  bequeathed  to  futurity  the  most 
perfect  productions,  have  also  been  the  most  remarkable 
for  assiduity.  This  industry  has  been  directed  as  much 
to  the  study  of  principles  and  rules  as  to  the  creation  of 
new  works.  We  have  shown  that  there  are  standards,  or 
rules,  of  taste,  which  never  can  be  disregarded  save  at 
the  peril  of  absurdity.  If  we  deny  regularity  and  certain- 
ty, or  fixed  and  rational  precepts  of  criticism  to  the  labours 
of  genius,  of  what  advantage  to  succeeding  knowledge 
can  these  prove  ?  Beyond  a  passing  pleasure  —  a  barren 
sentiment,  they  remain  without  fruit.  Excellence  in  the 
most  refined  exercises  of  mind  is  degraded  to  a  mere 
knack, —  to  a  fortunate  and  inexplicable  aptitude.  Thus, 
not  the  improvement  of  the  human  race  only,  but  the 
very  continuance  of  acquirement  among  men,  is  rendered 
uncertain.  Yet  such  are  the  consequences  of  every  sys- 
tem which  considers  taste  as  different  from,  and  indepen- 
dent of  knowledge ;  or  its  precepts  as  mutable,  and  not 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


more  amenable  to  judgment  than  to  imagination.  In  what- 
ever light,  then-  the  views  now  briefly  proposed  be  regard- 
ed, whether  as  respects  taste  as  an  object  of  mental 
science,  or  as  the  improver  of  art ;  whether  in  its  influ- 
ence upon  the  understanding  or  the  heart,  they  appear  to 
promise  the  surest,  the  most  practical,  and  the  most  digni- 
fied results. 

Beauty,  as  already  observed,  is  the  object  of  taste.  The 
primitive  source,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  the  ultimate 
and  only  criterion,  of  this  beauty,  is  nature.  For,  in  the 
arts  over  which  taste  presides,  natural  beauty  receives 
new  modifications,  and  is  subjected  to  new  laws.  Yet,  in 
their  general  tendency  and  design,  poetry,  painting,  sculp- 
ture, architecture,  and  even  music,  all  contemplate  one 
end, —  to  awaken  associated  emotion  ;  while  each  employs 
the  same  means  of  direct  or  less  obvious  imitation  of  na- 
ture. 

In  each  of  these  arts,  however,  a  distinction  exists, 
both  in  the  manner  and  in  the  extent  of  instruction. 
They  differ  also  in  the  closeness  with  which  the  respective 
imitations  reflect  their  natural  archetypes.  But  in  this 
they  correspond,  that  in  none  is  mere  imitation  the  final, 
or  most  exalted,  object  of  the  artist.  In  the  fidelity  of 
representation,  and  in  the  facility  with  which  the  origi- 
nals in  nature  may  be  traced,  Sculpture  and  Painting  are 
superior  to  all  the  other  imitative  arts.  Between  the  vivid 
creations  of  these,  and  the  more  varied,  more  imagina- 
tive, but  less  defined,  efforts  of  poetry,  the  middle  rank  is 
occupied  by  Architecture,  whose  mighty  masses  and  har- 
monious proportions  fill  the  mind  with  awe  or  delight,  as 
they  recall  the  majesty  or  grace  of  the  material  world. 

Architecture  thus  stands  alone,  in  its  own  principles, 
and,  it  may  be,  in  its  own  pre-eminence.  These  princi- 
ples are  at  once  more  profound,  or  at  least  more  abstract, 
2 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


and  yet  more  determinate,  than  those  of  either  of  the 
sister  arts.  Indeed,  so  remarkable  is  this  fact,  and  so 
nearly  do  the  limits  and  the  constituents  of  beauty  verge 
here  on  demonstrative  science,  that  we  may  hereafter 
point  out  their  connexion  with  some  of  the  preceding  doc- 
trines of  taste.  In  the  meantime,  it  may  be  sufficient 
merely  to  mention,  that  though  architecture,  as  a  neces- 
sary knowledge,  must  have  been  practised  from  the  earliest 
formation  of  society ;  and  though  it  furnishes  their  prin- 
cipal field  to  the  other  arts ;  yet  it  was  later  in  arriving 
at  perfection  than  Sculpture,  which,  besides,  affords  a 
more  continuous  series  of  monuments,  and  supplies  the 
best  materials  for  the  philosophy  of  the  subject ;  and  in 
other  respects,  the  arrangement  now  selected  seems  to 
promise  the  most  clear  elucidation  of  the  history  of  art. 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


SCULPTURE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  representation  of  external  forms  by  their  tangible 
properties,  in  actual  or  proportional  magnitude,  seems  the 
most  obvious,  as  it  is  the  simplest,  mode  of  imitation. 
Sculpture,  therefore,  of  all  the  imitative  arts,  probably  first 
exercised  the  ingenuity  of  mankind.  Even  now,  we  re- 
mark that  the  rude  carvings  on  the  spear-shaft  or  canoe  of 
the  savage  warrior  surpass  other  exhibitions  of  his  skill,  and 
might  more  readily  be  exalted  into  tasteful  decorations. 
Hence,  in  tracing  the  history  of  an  art  which  thus  appears 
almost  coeval  with  the  earliest  formation  of  society,  the 
chronology  of  those  ancient  empires  in  which  it  chiefly 
flourished,  will  supply  an  arrangement  best  adapted  to  the 
explanation  of  the  subject. 

Regarding  the  origin  of  sculptural  design,  indeed,  much 
has  been  written,  and  many  theories  proposed,  each  as- 
serting, for  some  favorite  people,  the  praise  of  invention. 
All  the  kindred  arts,  however,  with  which  taste  and  feel- 
ing are  conversant,  have  their  birth  and  subsequent  im- 


16 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


provement,  in  the  same  universal  principles  of  the  human 
mind.  Principles  which  mysteriously,  yet  powerfully,  and 
doubtless  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  wisest  ends,  con- 
nect man  with  that  nature  amidst  whose  haunts  he  is  des- 
tined to  dwell  —  which  awaken  his  untutored  enthusiasm 
to  her  beauties,  and  unite  his  individual  sympathies,  as 
his  social  remembrances,  with  her  hallowed  associations. 
It  is  thus  that  human  action  and  human  suffering  find 
their  earliest  records  in  the  scenes  where  the  events  were 
transacted.  The  conflict  long  continues  to  revive  on  its 
heath  ;  the  memory  of  the  chief  appropriates  the  lone  vale 
where  he  sleeps ;  woods,  mountains,  streams,  become 
the  representatives  of  supernatural  beings  —  beneficent  or 
vindictive  —  as  sensations  of  beauty  or  of  awe  are  called 
forth  in  the  mortal  breast.  The  succeeding  step  is  easy 
to  the  erection  of  less  durable  but  more  particular  memo- 
rials. Piety  —  true  in  sentiment,  false  in  means  —  patri- 
otism, friendship,  gratitude,  admiration,  leave  the  succes- 
sive impress  of  their  influence,  according  to  the  accessions 
of  intelligence,  on  the  '  grey  stone'  —  the  rude  column  — 
the  dressed  altar  —  the  visible  shape  —  the  perfect  statue. 
How  beautiful,  then,  yet  how  true,  the  allegory  of  Grecian 
poetry,  which  feigns  that  love,  or  the  natural  affections, 
taught  man  the  arts  of  genius  ! 

The  gradations,  also,  from  uninformed  art  to  some  de- 
gree of  refined  invention,  will  present,  even  among  distant 
nations,  little  of  diversified  character.  In  the  infancy  of 
society,  men  in  all  countries  closely  resemble  each  other, 
in  their  feelings,  in  their  wants,  in  their  means  of  gratifica- 
tion, and  improvement.  Hence,  in  the  fine  arts,  which  at 
first  among  every  people  minister,  with  similar  resources, 
to  the  same  natural  desires,  or  mental  affections,  resem- 
blance of  style  ought  not  to  be  assumed  as  evidence  of 
continuous  imitation  from  a  common  origin.    Early  Egyp- 


SCULPTURE. 


17 


tian  and  Grecian  statues  exhibit  almost  identical  lineaments, 
and  even  corresponding  attitude ;  simply,  because  each  had 
to  surmount  the  same  difficulties  with  nearly  equal  infor- 
mation. 

The  tendency  of  these  remarks,  especially  applicable  to 
sculpture,  sufficiently  proves  that  no  reliance  is  to  be  placed 
on  any  theories  of  its  exclusive  discovery.  Such  opinions, 
however  profound  they  may  appear,  are  in  reality  the  sub- 
stitution of  a  partial  view  of  facts,  when  a  general  law  of  our 
nature  is  within  reach.  In  treating  of  the  ancient  history 
of  sculpture,  then,  the  legitimate  objects  of  inquiry  are, 
its  progress,  character,  and  degree  of  perfection  among 
the  different  nations  of  antiquity.  But  though  no  claims  of 
any  single  nation  to  have  imparted  the  skill  to  others  can  be 
conceded,  a  very  wide  disparity  of  merit  is  observable, 
both  in  the  final  excellence  attained  by  one  people,  as  re- 
spects the  relative  acquirements  of  another  ;  and  likewise 
points  of  equal  advance  being  assumed,  the  times  past  in 
realising  this  similar  improvement  are  found  to  be  very  un- 
equal. These  facts,  here  most  easily  distinguishable,  are 
pregnant  with  importance,  and  invest  the  history  of  this  art 
with  much  of  dignity  and  solemn  interest,  exhibiting  the 
striking  connexion  between  the  intellectual  and  the  politi- 
cal and  moral  condition  of  man.  The  diversity,  in  truth, 
is  the  visible  impress  which  legislation  has  stamped  upon 
human  genius. 

Egypt  has  been  styled  the  cradle  of  the  arts;  and, 
waiving  the  examination  of  all  disputes  as  to  priority,  we 
prefer  commencing  with  the  history  of  Egyptian  sculp- 
ture, since  its  authentic  monuments  carry  us  up  to  a  very 
early  date,  —  are  numerous,  —  and  especially,  because  they 
tend  to  unite  the  scattered  lights  which  doubtful  tradition 
flings  over  the  less  perfect  remains  of  Asiatic  ingenuity. 

2* 


18 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


In  pursuing  this  investigation,  we  shall  observe  the  follow- 
ing arrangement  of  the  subject. 

Era  of  original,  or  native  Sculpture. 
Era  of  mixed,  or  Greco-Egyptian  Sculpture. 
Era  of  imitative  Sculpture,  improperly  denominated 
Egyptian. 

The  first  or  true  age  of  Sculpture  in  Egypt,  ascends  from 
the  invasion  of  Cambyses  to  unknown  antiquity.  During 
this  period  only  were  primitive  institutions  in  full  vigour 
and  integrity,  and  public  works,  reflecting  national  taste, 
conducted  by  national  talent.  The  two  remaining  eras, 
extending  downwards  through  the  successive  dominion  of 
the  Greeks  and  Romans,  have  been  added,  in  order  to  em- 
brace the  consideration  of  topics,  which,  though  remotely 
connected  therewith,  have  hitherto  been  regarded  as  integ- 
ral parts  of  the  subject.  In  examining  the  principles  and 
character  of  this  aboriginal  school,  there  are  still  left  two 
sources  of  judging,  with  sufficient  accuracy,  the  merits  of 
its  production,  —  vestiges  of  ancient  grandeur  yet  existing 
on  their  native  site  —  and  the  numerous  specimens  in  Eu- 
ropean cabinets.  These  remains  may  be  classed  under 
the  three  following  divisions. 

Colossal  statues. 

Groups  or  single  figures  about  the  natural  size. 
Hieroglyphical  and  historical  relievos. 

In  the  formation  of  these  various  labours,  four  kinds  of 
materials  are  employed :  one  soft,  a  species  of  sandstone : 
and  three  very  hard,  a  calcareous  rock,  out  of  which  the 
tombs,  with  their  sculptures,  are  hewn ;  basalt  or  trap,  of 
various  shades,  from  black  to  dark  grey,  the  constituent 
generally  of  the  smaller  statues ;  granite,  more  commonly  of 
the  description  named  by  mineralogists  granites  rubescens, 


SCULPTURE. 


19 


of  a  warm  reddish  hue,  with  large  crystals  of  feld-spar; 
or  it  is  sometimes,  though  rarely,  of  a  dark  red  ground, 
with  black  specks,  as  in  the  magnificent  head,  mis-named 
of  Memnon,  now  in  the  British  Museum.  Colossal  figures 
are  uniformly  of  granite,  in  which  also  is  a  large  portion 
of  the  relievos.  Besides  these,  from  the  account  of  Hero- 
dotus, as  also  from  the  statues  of  wood  actually  discovered 
by  modern  travellers,  we  learn  that  even  in  great  works,  the 
Egyptian  sculptors  were  accustomed  to  exercise  their  skill 
on  that  less  stubborn  material.  Metal  appears  to  have  been 
sparingly  used ;  at  least,  only  very  small  figures  have  yet 
been  found  of  a  composition  similar  to  the  bronze  of  later 
times.  Yet  the  book  of  Job  especially,  and  other  parts 
of  Scripture,  would  induce  the  conclusion,  that  even  colos- 
sal figures  were,  from  an  early  period,  cast  of  metal.  In 
the  tombs,  as  those  near  Thebes,  small  images  of  porcelain 
and  terra  cotta  are  likewise  frequent. 

I.  The  number  of  colossal  statues  in  ancient  Egypt,  as  de- 
scribed by  the  writers  of  Greece,  would  appear  incredible, 
especially  when  we  consider  the  magnitude  of  some,  and 
the  materials  of  all,  if  these  early  descriptions  were  not, 
at  the  present  day,  authenticated  by  countless  remains. 
Yet,  than  a  statue  of  granite  sixty  or  seventy  feet  high, 
there  is  not,  perhaps,  one  instance  more  striking,  of  disre- 
gard of  time,  and  patience  of  toil.  Of  these  mighty  labours, 
some  are  hewn  from  the  living  rock,  and  left  adhering  to 
the  natural  bed;  as  the  celebrated  Sphynx,  near  the  pyra- 
mids of  Ghizeh,  and  various  sculptures  on  the  rocks  of  the 
Thebaid,  which  look  the  shadows  of  giants  cast  by  a  declin- 
ing sun.  Others  again,  as  in  some  of  the  figures  in  the 
Memnonium,  appear  to  have  been  built;  most  probably 
reared  first  of  square  blocks,  and  afterwards  fashioned  into 
shape.  The  greater  part,  however,  are  composed  of  one 
block,  raised  in  the  granite  quarries  of  Upper  Egypt,  and 


20 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


transported  to  their  destined  situation  by  the  waters  of  the 
Nile.  Of  these  works,  Herodotus,  to  whose  veracity  al- 
most every  new  discovery  in  these  countries  adds  fresh 
credibility,  saw  and  has  described  many,  some  of  which 
can  be  identified  at  the  present  day,  and  others,  a  labour 
of  not  many  hours  promises  to  bring  to  light.  The  dimen- 
sions of  those  actually  enumerated,  extend  from  twelve  to 
seventy  cubits  in  height.  Some  are  figures  of  men  ;  oth- 
ers of  animals,  chiefly  of  the  Sphynx.  These  latter  ap- 
pear to  have  been  in  considerable  numbers,  usually  ranged 
in  corresponding  lines  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  approach 
to  the  great  temples.  Of  the  human  colossi,  again,  some 
were  isolated,  and  were  probably  objects  of  worship  ;  others 
were  merely  ornaments,  chiefly  employed  as  columns,  as 
in  the  famous  Propylceon  of  the  Temple  of  Vulcan, 
ascribed  to  Psammetichus,  and  erected  at  Memphis.  Of 
the  unattached  figures,  the  attitude  appears  to  have  exhib- 
ited but  little  action ;  the  posture  apparently  various, 
though  seldom  erect.  One  is  described  as  recumbent,  sev- 
enty cubits  long,  accompanied  by  two  smaller,  standing  one 
at  each  extremity.  The  largest  statues  now  known,  name- 
ly, two  in  the  Memnonium  at  Thebes,  are  both  in  a  sitting 
posture.  All  these  works,  even  the  columnar  statues,  seem 
to  have  been  connected  with  religious  rites  or  symbols. 
This,  together  with  imperfect  science,  accounts  for  the 
striking  similarity  discoverable  in  a  class,  the  individuals 
of  which  are  thus  varied,  at  least  in  purpose  and  magni- 
tude. Another  peculiarity  is,  that  in  Egyptian  sculpture, 
whenever  the  dimensions  are  much  beyond  nature,  the 
head  is  always  larger  than  even  colossal  proportions  would 
require.  It  would  be  unreasonable  to  ascribe  to  ignorance 
a  practice  thus  universal ;  it  is  to  be  attributed  rather  to 
mistaken  principle,  in  order  to  render  the  features  more 
conspicuous,  when  removed  to  a  distance  from  the  eye. 


SCULPTURE. 


21 


Where  similar  character  and  design  thus  pervade  the 
whole  class,  minuteness  of  individual  description  is  unne- 
cessary ;  we  may,  however,  merely  refer,  as  examples  best 
known,  to  the  two  Theban  colossi  already  noticed,  one  of 
which,  from  inscriptions  still  legible,  would  appear  to  be 
the  famous  sounding  statue  of  Memnon.  In  each  of  these 
figures,  exclusive  of  the  lower  plinth  of  the  throne,  the  al- 
titude is  fifty  feet,  the  material  red  granite,  and  the  posi- 
tions alike  —  namely,  seated,  the  head  looking  straight  in 
front,  arms  close  pressed  to  the  sides,  palms  and  forearm 
extended  and  resting  upon  the  thighs,  lower  extremities 
perpendicular  and  apart.  This  posture,  which  may  be 
described  as  characteristic  of  the  entire  class,  is  little  cal- 
culated to  convey  any  sentiment  of  ease  or  grace.  Yet  in 
these  vast,  although  comparatively  uninformed  labours,  we 
discover  more  of  the  sublime  than  arises  from  mere  vast- 
ness,  or  even  from  the  recollections  of  distant  time  with 
which  their  memory  is  associated.  They  are  invested 
with  a  majestic  repose  —  with  a  grand  and  solemn  tran- 
quillity, which  awes  without  astonishing ;  and  while  they 
exhibit  the  greatest  perfection  to  which  Egyptian  art  has 
attained,  in  colossal  statues  generally,  we  discover  occa- 
sional approaches  to  truth  and  nature,  with  no  inconsidera- 
ble feeling  of  the  sweet,  the  unaffected,  and  the  flowing  in 
expression  and  contour. 

II.  To  the  second  class  belong  both  the  earliest  and  the 
latest  works  of  the  Egyptian  chisel ;  yet  between  the  worst 
and  the  best,  is  not  to  be  perceived  a  diversity  of  merit 
corresponding  to  the  lapse  of  time  —  a  certain  proof,  that 
the  principles  of  the  art  were  fixed  at  an  early  period  of 
its  progress,  and  on  grounds  independent  of  its  precepts. 
The  first  essays  in  sculpture  in  Egypt,  seem  to  have  been 
made  upon  the  living  rock,  in  the  process  of  excavating 
artificial  or  enlarging  natural  caverns  for  the  purposes  of 


22 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


habitation  or  devotion,  and  at  every  period  in  Eastern  his- 
tory of  sepulture.  Statues  thus  formed,  would,  from  the 
mode  of  their  formation,  not  much  exceed  the  natural  size  ; 
and  being  afterwards  detached  when  finished,  were  trans- 
ferred to  other  situations.  In  imitation  of  these,  statues 
were  subsequently  hewn,  in  what  became  the  ordinary 
manner,  from  detached  blocks.  It  is  not  here  implied,  that 
these  two  methods  can  be  distinctly  traced  in  their  separate 
applications,  nor  that  the  one  was  superseded  by  the  other  ; 
but  simply,  that  the  state  of  knowledge,  and  the  habits  of 
the  people,  render  very  probable  the  priority  of  the  former. 
Hence  appears  an  explanation  of  a  singular  fact  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  art,  which  has  been  the  subject  of  much  dis- 
cussion. In  every  specimen,  without  exception,  which  can 
be  ranked  as  Egyptian,  a  pilaster  runs  up  the  back  of  the 
figure,  in  whatever  attitude  it  may  be  represented.  The  ori- 
gin of  a  practice  not  natural,  in  an  art  professing  to  imitate 
nature,  must  be  sought  in  some  external  circumstance  of 
its  early  history.  Now,  such  circumstance  seems  plainly 
discernible  in  works  still  remaining,  in  the  excavations  of 
Philoe,  Elephantis,  Silsilis,  and  at  El  Malook,  in  the  tombs 
of  the  Theban  kings.  In  these  monuments,  which  are  of- 
ten suites  of  magnificent  chambers  hewn  from  the  hard  and 
white  calcareous  rock,  numerous  and  beautiful  remains  of 
sculpture  are  preserved.  These  ornaments  vary  from  sim- 
ple relievos  to  complete  statues.  In  the  latter,  the  figure 
is  never  entirely  detached,  when  placed  on  the  surface  of 
the  wall,  a  posterior  portion  being  always  left  adhering ; 
while,  if  formed  by  cutting  round  to  a  recess,  a  pilaster 
behind  runs  up  the  whole  height,  evidently  with  the  origi- 
nal view  of  increasing  strength  or  of  saving  labour,  or  from 
certain  religious  notions.  Subsequently,  in  detached  stat- 
ues wrought  out  of  blocks  from  the  same,  or  in  part  the 
same  motives,  and  also  in  order  to  obtain  a  surface  for  the 


SCULPTURE. 


23 


inscription  of  hieroglyphics,  the  aboriginal  pillar  was  re- 
tained. Generally  speaking,  the  workmanship  here  is  in- 
ferior to  the  details  of  the  colossal  figures,  although  some 
of  the  finest  specimens  belong  to  this  second  division. 
The  varieties,  however,  cannot  be  referred  to  any  regular 
gradations  of  improvement,  nor  determinate  epochas  of 
style,  as  sometimes  attempted.  They  are  the  result  solely 
of  individual  skill  in  the  artists,  and  of  the  views,  opulence, 
or  purposes  of  their  employers.  This  difference,  also,  ex- 
extends  only  to  the  minor  details  of  execution ;  in  the 
more  intellectual  principles  of  art,  all  are  nearly  on  an 
equality.  Even  the  design  and  attitudes  are  wonderfully 
limited,  the  sameness  being  more  uniform  than  could  have 
been  produced,  except  by  the  operation  of  prescriptive  rules 
and  fixed  models  of  imitation. 

In  many  of  the  ancient  Egyptian  buidings,  the  whole  of 
the  exterior  is  frequently  covered  with  relievos.  This  pro- 
fusion, for  the  purpose,  too,  of  mere  decoration,  together 
with  the  indefinite  nature  of  hieroglyphical  delineation, 
operated  strongly  against  improvement  in  this  particular 
province.  Indeed,  the  prejudicial  effects  arising  from  an 
embellishment,  in  which  extent  more  than  intrinsic  beauty 
was  regarded,  and  where  arbitrary  forms,  or  mere  indica- 
tions of  known  objects,  precluded  all  natural  imitation, 
and  all  delicacy  of  expression,  infected  the  whole  of  the 
art.  The  general  inferiority  in  works  of  this  third  class, 
is,  however,  to  be  understood  with  due  limitation.  In 
relievos,  consisting  of  few  figures,  sepulchral  ones  for 
instance,  which  in  the  same  piece  rarely  contain  more 
than  three,  are  often  displayed  no  mean  beauties  both  of 
execution  and  of  character.  In  historical  relievos,  again, 
which  occupy  entire  walls  of  the  temples,  crowded  as  they 
are  with  figures  in  various  actions,  processions,  battles, 
sieges,  and  represented  by  artists  who  apparently  possessed 


24 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


no  principles  of  design,  save  a  knowledge  of  simple  form  ill 
its  most  restricted  movements,  all  is  feebleness,  puerility, 
and  confusion.  Or  if  beauty  occasionally  break  forth,  it 
is  in  some  single  reposing  figure,  or  in  the  patient  details 
of  execution.  In  the  drawing  and  anatomy,  singular  ig- 
norance is  manifested  ;  the  limbs  are  without  joints,  and 
the  movements  exhibit  neither  balance  nor  spring  ;  pro- 
portion and  perspective  seem  to  have  been  utterly  un- 
known. Military  engines,  buildings,  horses,  soldiers,  all 
appear  of  the  same  dimensions,  and  all  equally  near  the 
eye.  The  hero  in  all  these  monuments  bears  a  strong 
individual  resemblance  ;  he  is  represented  ever  victorious, 
in  the  bloom  of  youth,  and  in  his  figure  are  sometimes 
displayed  both  grandeur  and  beauty  of  conception,  when 
considered  apart.  But  these  separate  excellences  are 
completely  obscured  by  the  absurdity  of  representing  him 
at  least  double  the  stature  of  his  followers  or  opponents. 
The  circumstance  of  thus  confounding  moral  greatness 
with  physical  magnitude,  were  alone  sufficient  to  mark 
the  infancy  of  invention,  and  the  barbarism  of  taste.  It 
is  nevertheless  only  justice  to  mention,  that  occasionally, 
in  the  historical  relievos,  we  observe  rudiments  of  higher 
art,  with  less  of  convention,  and  more  of  freedom  of  im- 
agination, than  in  any  other  Egyptian  sculptures. 

The  praises  bestowed  upon  the  hieroglyphics  of  Egypt 
by  Winkleman  and  others,  must  be  restricted  to  the  mere 
workmanship ;  and  even  then,  are  exaggerated  or  mis- 
placed. Considered  as  works  of  art,  if  indeed  they  can 
be  elevated  to  that  rank,  they  will  be  found  entirely  desti- 
tute of  accurate  discrimination  of  form,  and  are  more 
properly  conventional  representations,  dependent  upon 
modes  and  principles  at  once  limited  and  arbitrary. 
These  labours,  the  probable  records  of  primitive  history, 
and  of  earliest  superstition,  are  of  different  kinds.  The 


SCULPTURE. 


25 


first  in  use,  though  not  afterwards  superseded,  were  ana- 
glyphies, in  which  objects  are  represented  by  a  simple 
outline,  often  traced  to  the  depth  of  several  inches.  An 
obvious  improvement  upon  this  was  to  round  the  angles, 
and  to  relieve  the  figures  upon  themselves ;  a  mode  which 
very  generally  obtains.  To  this  manner  much  ingenuity 
and  forethought  has  inconsiderately  been  ascribed,  as  if 
adopted  against  the  attacks  of  time,  and  to  cast  a  deeper 
shadow  on  the  symbols.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  to  be 
judged  merely  as  the  resource  of  an  imperfect  art.  A 
third,  but  comparatively  rare  method,  was  to  elevate  the 
contour,  by  reducing  the  surface  both  within  and  without. 
The  last  and  most  laborious  plan,  was  to  remove  the  ground 
entirely,  leaving  the  figures  in  proper  relief.  This,  the 
true  relievo,  was  unknown  to  or  unpractised  in  the  ancient 
arts  of  Egypt.  Even  the  historical  and  monumental  sculp- 
tures just  described,  partake  more  of  the  anaglyphical 
than  of  the  elevated  relievo.  Indeed  every  specimen  of 
this  latter  is  to  be  assigned  to  a  later  period  than  the  first 
and  genuine  age.  By  attending  to  this,  and  to  the  cos- 
tume of  the  figures  in  the  most  ancient  works,  data  of 
importance  might  be  discovered,  throwing  valuable  light 
on  the  eras  of  Egypt's  mysterious  monuments. 

The  expression,  mixed  art,  selected  to  discriminate  the 
second  epoch,  has  been  adopted,  to  mark  the  successive 
changes  in  the  ancient  modes  induced  by  the  Persians 
and  the  Greeks.  The  influence  exerted  upon  art  by  the 
dominion  of  the  former,  amounted  merely  to  a  negative, — 
to  the  prohibition  of  its  exercise  ;  which,  with  the  des- 
truction of  many  of  its  best  monuments,  produced  a  dete- 
rioration in  the  few  and  feeble  attempts  during  the  latter 
years  of  that  dynasty.  Mythraism,  in  which  elemental 
fire  was  the  symbol  of  the  Deity,  proscribed  the  imitative 
arts  in  that  service,  whence,  in  all  other  countries,  they 
3 


26 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


have  sprung.  The  Persians,  says  the  father  of  history, 
have  neither  temples  nor  statues.  Or,  if  architecture  was 
encouraged  by  these  conquerors,  evidence  still  remains 
that  their  erections  were  but  modifications  of  materials 
torn  from  the  mighty  structures  of  past  ages.  In  little  more 
than  a  century  and  a  half,  the  Persian  was  subverted  by  the 
Macedonian  empire.  Yet  even  in  Alexander,  the  ancient 
and  native  arts  of  Egypt  obtained  not  a  patron.  The  majes- 
tic range  of  temples,  palaces,  and  cities,  which  bordered  the 
sacred  stream  of  the  Nile,  furnished  so  many  quarries,  of 
tempting  access,  whence  Alexandria  was  reared  ;  and  the 
mightiest,  as  well  as  most  rational  trophy  of  Grecian  su- 
periority, received  its  grandest  and  most  enduring  monu- 
ments from  the  stupendous  labours  of  the  first  age.  His 
successors  followed  the  example ;  and  although,  under 
them,  the  polished  literature  of  Greece,  united  with  her 
own  subtile  philosophy,  constituted  Alexandria  the  Athens 
of  the  East,  yet  in  sculpture,  in  architecture,  and  in  reli- 
gion, to  which  both  were  subordinate,  the  character  re- 
mained essentially  Egyptian,  but  with  certain  deviations 
and  additions. 

The  Roman  dominion  finally  introduced  new  modifica- 
tions, or  rather  mutations,  of  the  ancient  art.  This  epoch 
may  be  considered  as  commencing  with  the  introduction 
of  the  Isiac  mysteries  at  Rome ;  although  the  principal 
features  by  which,  as  a  division  in  the  history  of  art,  it  is 
distinguished,  are  not  decidedly  marked  prior  to  the  reign 
of  Hadrian.  The  works  of  the  third,  or  imitative  era, 
have,  in  strict  propriety,  no  real  connexion  with  "Egyptian 
sculpture,  farther  than  as  it  multiplied  copies  of  the  ancient 
forms,  with  occasional  accessions  of  elegance.  During 
a  residence  of  two  years  in  the  East,  and  by  the  deifi- 
cation there  of  his  favorite  Antinous,  Hadrian  imbibed  a 
fondness  for  the  arts,  and  particularly  for  the  statuary  of 


SCULPTURE. 


27 


Egypt.  But  the  works  which  he  commanded  were  in  all 
respects  Roman,  or  rather  Grecian,  under  Egyptian  modes. 
They  were  indeed  most  scrupulously  modelled  after  the 
most  ancient  and  authentic  specimens;  even  the  mate- 
rials were  brought  from  the  native  quarries,  but  the  sculp- 
tors were  Greeks  or  Italians ;  and  the  Grecian  character 
of  design  is  visible  in  every  remaining  specimen,  the  merits 
of  which  require  notice.  Nothing,  therefore,  can  be  more 
futile,  than  from  the  works  of  this  age  to  infer  the  merits 
or  principles  of  native  and  ancient  art.  So  far,  indeed, 
does  our  scepticism  here  extend,  that  we  doubt  if  a  single 
statue  of  genuine  and  ancient  Egyptian  workmanship  is 
to  be  found  among  the  numbers  that  have  been  discovered 
in  Italy,  and  with  which  Hadrian  filled  that  portion  of  the 
empire. 

The  general  conclusion,  then,  from  these  remarks,  is, 
that  there  is  but  one  period  of  real  Egyptian  sculpture, 
and  that  the  genius  and  character  of  this  indigenous 
and  aboriginal  art  is  to  be  discovered  only  in  the  most 
ancient  monuments,  having  suffered  various  changes  under 
the  Greeks  and  under  the  Romans.  In  establishing  this 
inference,  we  have  not  been  guided  by  the  often  fanciful, 
always  deceitful,  analogies  discoverable  in  the  fluctuating 
style  and  varying  productions  of  imitation,  but  have  viewed 
these  as  directed  by  the  steady  operation  of  the  laws 
and  institutions  of  society,  which  govern  the  spirit  and 
tendency  of  the  arts  themselves.  During  an  interval  of 
nearly  twenty  centuries  previous  to  the  era  of  Alexander, 
though  diligently  cultivated,  sculpture  had  hardly  attained 
any  of  the  nobler  qualities  of  invention.  The  system  of 
taste  and  of  government  was  in  fact  hostile  to  improvement 
in  this  art  beyond  a  certain  limit,  or  upon  any  principles, 
save  those  fixed  on  the  very  threshold  of  knowledge.  The 
national  polity,  which  will  ever  be  found  to  guide  the 


28 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


national  taste,  induced  a  preference  of  the  immense  and 
the  durable ;  hence  the  grandeur  of  Egyptian  architec- 
ture :  but  in  statuary,  such  a  character  of  design  neces- 
sarily produced  figures  rigid  and  motionless.  The  essen- 
tial elements  of  the  grand  and  the  beautiful  —  breadth 
and  simplicity,  are  indeed  present,  but  the  effect  is  rarely 
elicited.  The  simple  is  seldom  inspired  by  any  feeling  of 
the  true,  the  natural,  or  the  graceful ;  breadth,  unrelieved 
by  symmetry  of  parts,  or  expression  of  details,  degenerates 
into  inert  magnitude.  The  colossal  forms  are  the  records 
only  of  power,  of  patience,  and  of  labour  ;  not  the  crea- 
tions of  intelligence  and  of  genius.  Sculpture  also  suf- 
fered from  peculiar  obstacles  to  its  progress.  Exclusively 
attached  to  the  service  of  religion,  its  representations  were 
confined  to  divinities,  priests,  and  kings;  personages 
whose  modes  and  lineaments  were  unalterably  fixed  — 
fixed,  too,  from  types,  frequently  of  the  most  hideous  des- 
cription, at  least  ill  managed,  and  little  adapted  to  the 
objects  or  spirit  of  the  art.  This  religion  likewise  admit- 
ted no  images  of  human  virtue  or  sympathy  to  mingle  with 
its  cold  obstructions  ;  thus  denying  to  the  Egyptian  arts  a 
source,  which,  to  those  of  Greece,  proved  one  of  the  rich- 
est and  sweetest  veins  of  ideal  composition.  The  artist, 
therefore,  even  had  he  been  allowed  to  depart  from  estab- 
lished but  imperfect  models,  possessed  no  ennobling  source 
whence  to  create  new  models  of  beauty  or  of  grandeur. 
Imagination  wanted  materials,  which  neither  the  pre- 
scribed subject  nor  living  nature,  under  these  restrictions, 
could  supply.  Again,  sculpture  not  only  laboured  under 
the  general  disadvantage  of  hereditary  and  unchanging 
professions ;  a  national  regulation  which  repressed  every 
fortunate  predilection  of  genius,  but  as  a  security  against 
the  possibility  of  innovation,  slaves,  educated  under  the 
immediate  care  of  the  priests,  were  entrusted  with  the  exe- 


SCULPTURE. 


29 


cution  of  the  most  sacred,  and,  consequently,  most  impor- 
tant monuments. 

In  Egyptian  sculpture,  thus  properly  understood,  little 
will  be  discovered  of  that  excellence  which  has  been 
attributed  to  its  remains.  Still  there  are  to  be  found  some 
first  principles  of  true  science  ;  and  these  are  occasionally 
developed  with  considerable  beauty  of  detail ;  always  with 
patient,  but  inefficient  technicality.  It  is  by  no  means 
apparent,  however,  that  by  the  masters  of  these  early  ages 
any  theory  was  observed ;  certainly  the  occasional  refine- 
ment seems  rather  the  result  of  accident  or  of  individual 
superiority,  than  of  systematic  perceptions,  or  of  trans- 
mitted precept.  Their  best  statues  have  an  elevation  of 
seven  hands  and  a  half,  being  divided  equally,  the  torso 
and  limbs  having  the  same  length.  These  proportions  are 
pleasing,  and  borrowed  directly  from  nature  ;  but  they 
show  nothing  of  that  characteristic  beauty  of  physical  art, 
which,  in  the  varied  harmony  of  parts,  indicates  the  capa- 
bilities of  form.  A  similar  principle  regulates  the  details, 
which,  though  brought  out  with  considerable  propriety 
and  softness,  are  yet  without  precision  or  anatomical 
knowledge,  especially  of  internal  structure,  —  the  heads 
of  the  bones,  the  insertions  and  terminations  of  the  mus- 
cles, never  being  correctly  indicated.  Hence  the  forms 
appear  coarse  and  inelegant,  the  limbs  heavy  and  inert, 
because  without  vigorous  marking  on  the  joints,  where  the 
deeper  depressions  only  and  the  strongest  projections  are 
aimed  at,  not  feelingly  touched.  The  attitude,  also,  is 
constantly  rectilinear,  denoting  that  condition  of  the  art 
when  poverty  of  source  limits  its  reach  of  the  beautiful 
by  the  difficulties  of  execution.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  first 
choice  of  invention  rendered  permanent  by  prescriptive 
institutions.  From  the  curve  being  thus  unknown  in  the 
contour,  th$  action  is  necessarily  angular  in  its  direction, 
3* 


30 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


unless  the  movement  be  parallel  to  the  gravitating  line  of 
the  figure.  Hence  the  range  of  action  and  of  attitude  is 
very  circumscribed ;  the  arms  either  hanging  close  by  the 
sides  or  crossed  at  right  angles  on  the  breast ;  or,  as  a 
slight  variation,  one  is  placed  in  each  posture.  Lateral 
movements  in  like  manner  are  limited,  the  statue  standing 
equally  poised  on  both  limbs,  the  feet  not  exactly  opposite, 
one  being  in  advance,  often  almost  in  front  of  the  other. 
Whether  erect,  sitting,  or  kneeling,  the  action  is  the  same  : 
hence,  little  of  grace  or  animation  of  movement  is  to  be 
found  even  in  the  most  perfect  works ;  yet  there  is  often 
to  be  remarked  a  grave  and  staid  serenity,  neither  unpleas- 
ing  nor  devoid  of  interest.  As  in  the  selection  of  attitude, 
however,  the  artist  has  been  guided,  not  by  the  beautiful, 
but  by  his  own  timidity  and  confined  resources  ;  so  in  ex- 
pression, little  beyond  a  vague  and  general  emotion  has 
been  attempted ;  seldom  more,  indeed,  than  might  be  pro- 
duced by  the  symmetrical  arrangement  of  the  features. 
These  are  flat,  the  countenance  being  Ethiopian,  and  are 
just  sufficiently  distinguished  for  the  effect  of  separation ; 
the  depth  of  shadow  is  wanting  to  give  contrast  and  firm- 
ness. The  eyes,  whether  long  and  narrow,  the  peculiar 
characteristic  of  the  earliest  era,  or  more  full  and  open, 
as  in  the  Greco-Egyptian  period,  are  nearly  on  the  general 
level  of  the  face ;  the  nose  is  broad  and  depressed,  the 
lips  thick,  and  always  sharp  on  the  outer  edge,  though  often 
touched  with  great  softness  and  delicacy  ;  the  cheeks,  chin, 
and  ears,  are  large,  ill  made  out,  and  without  feeling. 
Hence,  although  the  heads  are  often  finished  with  won- 
derful labour,  the  effect  is  always  feeble,  while  the  whole  is 
uniformly  surmounted  by  harsh  and  disproportionate  masses 
of  drapery,  overpowering  the  already  too  weak  expression. 
The  superior  beauty  of  some  of  the  colossal  busts  may  per- 
haps be  rightly  attributed  to  their  having  been  executed  as 


SCULPTURE. 


31 


portraits.  Conventional  art,  even  in  the  most  skilful  hands, 
is  rarely  pleasing ;  nature,  even  rudely  imitated,  is  ever 
viewed  with  a  degree  of  pleasure. 

On  the  methods  employed  to  work  materials  so  unyield- 
ing as  those  of  the  Egyptian  sculptors,  it  is  difficult  to 
propose  any  decided  opinion.  On  their  porphyry,  granite, 
and  basalt,  modern  tools  can  hardly  make  impression ;  yet 
are  the  forms,  in  all  instances,  highly  finished,  with  angles 
sharp  and  unbroken.  The  latter  circumstance,  indeed, 
constitutes  a  peculiar  feature  in  the  works  of  this  country 
as  distinguished  from  Oriental  art  generally,which,  together 
with  breadth  and  simplicity,  brings  them  nearest  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  Grecian  chisel.  From  the  style  of  execu- 
tion, however,  it  would  appear  that  the  effect  has  been 
brought  out  rather  by  patience  and  labour,  than  by  rapid 
or  dexterous  management.  In  fact,  the  general  character 
has  been  influenced  not  a  little  by  the  materials ;  for  in 
the  statues  of  wood,  both  as  described  and  discovered, 
the  action  is  bolder,  and  the  manner  more  free.  If  a  con- 
jecture may  be  hazarded  on  the  subject  of  their  theory,  it 
would  seem  that  the  Egyptians,  in  the  infancy  of  their 
arts,  were  guided  by  an  outline  traced  round  a  human 
figure,  dead  or  alive,  extended  upon  the  block,  face  up- 
wards, with  the  arms  close  by  the  sides,  and  the  limbs 
placed  together  exactly  as  their  statues  are  composed. 
The  scattered  details  given  in  the  Greek  writers  respect- 
ing the  arts  of  this  ancient  people,  have  indeed  induced 
the  belief,  that  they  were  acquainted  with  much  more  re- 
fined canons  of  symmetry ;  but  it  ought  to  have  been 
observed,  that  Diodorus  and  others  describe  the  practices 
existing  in  their  own  times,  when  Egypt  had,  to  a  certain 
extent,  become  the  pupil  of  Greece.  In  some  respects, 
also,  it  is  difficult  to  give  implicit  credit  to  their  accounts, 
at  least  in  the  common  interpretation.    It  is  farther  par- 


32 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ticularly  to  be  observed,  that  the  supposition  now  made 
will  account  for  the  correctness  of  the  general  proportions 
which  would  thus  be  obtained  from  nature  ;  likewise  no 
theory  of  proportional  parts  can  be  detected  different  from 
the  results  thus  obtainable,  while  those  details  which  a 
refined  theory  would  preserve,  but  which  could  not  by  such 
method  be  measured,  are  defective. 

We  have  been  thus  minute  and  critical  in  these  investi- 
gations for  two  reasons :  from  Egypt  certainly  descended 
the  first  principles  of  improvement  to  Western  art,  while 
no  less  evidently  did  the  Eastern  world  derive  its  entire 
knowledge  from  the  same  source.  Consequently,  in  care- 
fully examining  that  of  the  Egyptians,  the  best  account, 
deduced  too  from  monuments  actually  observed,  has  been 
given  of  Oriental  Sculpture  generally.  Of  the  mighty 
empires,  indeed,  which  once  embraced  the  happiest  re- 
gions of  Asia  and  of  the  globe,  a  name,  or  at  most  a 
shapeless  mass  of  ruins,  alone  remain.  Of  Jewish  art, 
the  sole  memorials  in  existence  are  the  sculptured  tran- 
scripts on  the  arch  of  Titus.  But  every  description  in  the 
sacred  records,  from  the  calf  of  the  wilderness  to  the 
twelve  oxen  of  the  molten  sea,  or  the  lions  of  the  throne  of 
Solomon,  evinces  the  taste  of  the  former  bondsmen  of 
Pharaoh,  and  of  him  who  was  skilled  in  all  the  learning  of 
the  Egyptians ;  at  the  same  time  we  learn  that  the  Israel- 
ites quickly  departed  from  the  severe  and  simple  grandeur 
of  the  parent  source.  Moving  eastward  :  Baalbec's  gigan- 
tic masonry  is  adorned  with  little  of  sculpture ;  the  lonely 
Palmyra  exhibits  only  Roman  ruins,  for  the  Tadmor  of 
Scripture  has  long  disappeared ;  the  pillared  Persepolis 
claims  a  remoter  antiquity ;  but  the  Pelhavi  and  arrow- 
headed  inscriptions,  instead  of  hieroglyphics,  show  com- 
paratively recent,  and  the  innumerable  and  beautiful  sculp- 
tures, display  certain  traits  of  the  Grecian  school.  They 


SCULPTURE. 


33 


cannot  be  older  than  Cyrus,  but  most  probably  belong  to 
the  age  of  his  successors.  The  mysterious  monuments  of 
Hindustan  alone  seem  to  claim  an  equal  or  more  ancient 
date  compared  with  the  labours  we  have  surveyed.  Their 
nature,  also,  is  the  same ;  hence  there  are  not  wanting 
names  of  highest  eminence,  who  have  maintained  not  only 
the  greater  antiquity  of  Indian  art,  but  that  thence  has  been 
derived  all  other,  as  from  the  parent  source.  This  opinion 
has  been  grounded  too  exclusively  on  the  dubious  infer- 
ences of  philology,  or  of  mere  antiquarian  erudition,  — 
dubious,  at  least,  when  applied  to  Sculpture.  Here  the 
subject  itself  ought  to  supply  the  true  principles  of  deci- 
sion ;  and  on  this  point  one  observation  will  suffice.  The 
sculpture,  like  the  architecture,  of  Egypt,  bears  the  im- 
press of  uniform  simplicity ;  the  grand  lines  of  composi- 
tion are  few,  accessories  are  sparingly  introduced,  and 
wear  the  same  sober,  massive,  and  unpretending  character. 
In  the  works  of  Asiatic  art,  on  the  contrary,  although  pre- 
senting a  general  resemblance  to  those  of  Egypt,  the  de- 
sign is  neither  simple  nor  uniform ;  the  parts  are  numerous, 
breaking  the  master  lines  into  multiplied  compartments, 
while  the  style  of  ornament  is  replete  with  complicated 
details,  and  of  pretension  above  the  means  of  the  artist. 
Now,  judging  according  to  the  natural  inferences  from  these 
facts,  and  according  to  the  acknowledged  precepts  of 
imitative  art,  this  latter  style,  with  its  defects  in  keeping, 
has  evidently  arisen  in  consequence  of  superinducing 
a  laboured  and  injudiciously  aspiring  taste  upon  the  more 
severe  and  simple  conceptions  of  a  primitive  composi- 
tion. Similar  principles  may  be  obviously  traced  in  the 
farther  progress  of  the  arts  eastward.  China  is  admitted, 
on  the  most  learned  authorities,  to  have  been  planted  by 
colonists  from  the  banks  of  the  Indus  and  the  Ganges ;  and 
in  the  unchanging  modes  of  that  country,  we  seem  almost  to 


34 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


catch  glimpses  of  the  aboriginal  knowledge  of  our  race. 
Yet  how  striking  the  difference  between  the  ornate  and 
the  frittered  labours  of  the  Chinese  compared  with  the 
works  either  of  India  or  of  Egypt !  Even  their  great  wall 
is  but  the  accumulation  of  petty  exertions  —  an  evidence 
of  numerical,  not  of  scientific  energy. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

In  the  previous  chapter,  Egypt  has  been  exhibited  as 
the  centre  of  intelligence  in  the  history  of  ancient  art; 
and  having  explained  the  connexion  which  can  still  be 
traced  in  the  few  remaining  monuments  of  the  East,  we 
now  turn  from  the  parent  source  to  trace  the  progress  of 
refinement  in  the  West,  where,  first  in  Greece,  the  human 
mind  awoke  to  the  full  consciousness  of  its  capacious 
grasp,  and  of  its  exquisite  sensibilities. 

The  universal  origin  of  sculptural  representation,  already 
noticed,  in  the  alliance  which  man  forms  with  natural  ob- 
jects as  shadowing  forth  the  affections  or  the  regrets  of  the 
heart,  is  nowhere  so  conspicuous  as  in  Greece.  Here  art 
was  poetry  from  the  beginning ;  her  consecrated  groves, 
her  winding  streams,  her  flowery  plains,  the  azure  depths 
of  her  mountains,  became  at  once  the  residence  and  the 
representatives  of  those  beings,  whether  divine  or  heroic, 
who  constituted  her  theology.  By  a  people,  simple  in 
their  habits,  yet  ardent  in  their  feelings,  this  early  faith 
was  long  remembered,  —  such  reminiscences  deeply  tinc- 
turing much  of  what  is  most  exquisitely  descriptive  and 


SCULPTURE. 


35 


sentimental  in  Grecian  poetry.  But  a  belief  so  abstract, 
so  untangible  in  its  forms,  and  so  remotely  addressed  to 
the  senses,  would  soon  prove  insufficient  to  maintain  effec- 
tual empire  over  the  passions.  Attempts  were  speedily 
made  to  secure,  as  it  were,  the  more  immediate  presence 
and  protection  of  the  objects  of  veneration  or  of  worship. 
Men's  desires  in  this  respect,  however,  as  in  all  other  in- 
stances, would  necessarily  be  limited  by  their  knowledge 
and  their  powers.  In  the  primitive  ages,  accordingly, 
objects  rude  and  unfashioned  as  we  learn  from  history, 
were  adored  as  representing  the  divinities  of  Greece. 
Even  to  the  time  of  Pausanias,  stones  and  trunks  of  trees, 
rough  and  uninformed  by  art,  were  preserved  in  the  tem- 
ples :  and  though  replaced  by  forms  almost  divine,  still 
regarded  with  peculiar  veneration,  as  the  ancient  images 
of  the  deities.  As  skill  improved,  these  signs  began  to 
assume  more  determinate  similitude  ;  and  from  a  square 
column,  the  first  stage,  by  slow  gradations  something  ap- 
proaching to  a  resemblance  of  the  human  figure  was  fash- 
ioned. These  efforts  at  sculpture  long  continued  extremely 
imperfect.  The  extremities  seem  not  to  have  been  even 
attempted ;  the  arms  were  not  separated  from  the  body, 
nor  the  limbs  from  each  other,  but,  like  the  folds  of  the 
drapery,  stiffly  indicated  by  deep  lines  drawn  on  the  sur- 
face. Such  appears  to  have  been  the  general  state  of  the 
art  immediately  prior  to  the  period  when  it  can  first  be 
traced,  as  cultivated  with  some  degree  of  success  in  any 
particular  place.  This  occurs  about  twelve  centuries  be- 
fore Christ. 

The  fine  arts  have  never  flourished  in  states  not  com- 
mercial ;  in  this  respect,  presenting  a  marked  contrast  to 
the  origin  and  progress  of  poetry  and  music  ;  a  fact  sin- 
gularly exemplified  in  the  condition  of  those  cities  where 
arose  the  primitive  schools  in  Greece.    Sicyon,  ^Egina, 


36  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

Corinth,  and  Athens,  were  the  first  seats  of  commerce 
and  of  sculpture.  Sicyon,  with  its  small  but  important 
territory,  extending  a  few  miles  along  the  south-eastern 
extremity  of  the  Corinthian  gulf,  was  the  most  ancient  of 
the  Grecian  states,  and  probably  the  oldest  city  of  Europe. 
From  the  earliest  times,  it  became  celebrated  for  the 
wealth,  enterprise,  and  intelligence  of  its  population  ; 
and  from  the  Sicyonian  academy  were  sent  forth  many  of 
the  most  celebrated  masters  of  design ;  hence  Sicyon 
obtained  the  venerable  appellation  of  '  Mother  of  the 
Arts.'  The  foundation  of  this  school,  though  most  pro- 
bably of  much  higher  antiquity,  is  assigned  to  Dibutades, 
who,  in  the  humble  occupation  of  a  potter,  became  the 
accidental  inventor  of  the  art  of  modelling.  For  this  dis- 
covery, so  precious  in  its  subsequent  effects,  he  was  in- 
debted to  the  ingenuity  of  his  daughter,  who,  inspired  by 
love,  traced  upon  the  wall,  by  means  of  a  lamp,  the  sha- 
dowed profile  of  the  favored  youth  as  he  slept,  that  with 
this  imperfect  resemblance  she  might  beguile  the  lingering 
hours  of  absence.  This  outline  the  father,  filling  up  with 
clay,  formed  a  medallion,  which,  even  to  the  time  of  Pliny, 
was  preserved  as  a  most  interesting  relic.  To  the  same 
pleasing  origin  painting  has  been  ascribed  —  another 
instance  of  that  delightful  charm,  which,  to  their  poetry, 
their  arts,  their  philosophy  even,  the  Greeks  have  imparted 
by  the  constant  union  of  sentiment  and  reason  —  of  the 
heart  with  the  understanding. 

The  little  island,  or  rather  rock,  of  iEgina,  still  one  of 
the  most  interesting  spots  of  Greece,  rising  above  the 
waves  of  the  Saronic  gulf,  nearly  opposite  to  Athens, 
affords  a  striking  illustration  of  the  effects  of  commercial 
wisdom.  Insignificant  in  extent,  boasting  of  few  produc- 
tions, it  was  yet  enabled,  by  this  wisdom,  long  and  success- 
fully to  maintain  the  struggle  of  warfare,  and  to  cherish  the 


SCULPTURE. 


37 


arts  of  peace  and  of  elegance,  especially  sculpture,  in  a 
school,  if  not  the  earliest,  certainly  latest  distinguished 
by  originality  of  style  and  invention.  Smilis  was  famous 
by  his  statues  of  Juno,  especially  one  at  Samos,  called  by 
Pliny  '  the  most  ancient  image  '  of  that  goddess.  Even 
in  the  works  of  this,  her  first  master,  it  is  said,  were  to  be 
discovered  a  gravity  and  austere  grandeur,  the  principles 
of  that  style  visible  still  in  the  noble  marbles  which  once 
adorned,  in  ^Egina,  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Panhellenius. 

Corinth  was  early  more  celebrated  as  the  patroness  of 
painting.  Concerning  Daedalus,  the  first  of  the  Athenian 
sculptors,  doubtful  or  fabulous  accounts  have  reached  us  ; 
but  a  careful  investigation  of  circumstances  proves,  that  of 
whatsoever  country  a  native,  he  had  rendered  himself  re- 
nowned by  the  exercise  of  his  skill  at  the  court  of  Minos 
before  settling  in  Attica.  The  facts  attending  his  arrival 
there,  and  the  history  of  his  previous  labours,  enable  us  to 
fix  dates,  and  to  trace  the  true  source  of  improvement  in 
Grecian  art  at  this  particular  era.  Of  the  early  establish- 
ments of  the  Greeks  planted  in  the  isles  of  the  iEgean, 
which  even  preceded  the  mother  country  in  the  acquisition 
of  wealth  and  intelligence,  the  Doric  colony  of  Crete  enjoy- 
ed, from  a  very  early  period,  the  happiness  and  consequent 
power  of  settled  government.  External  advantages  of  situa- 
tion first  invited  the  access,  while  domestic  institutions  se- 
cured the  benefits,  of  ancient  and  uninterrupted  intercourse 
with  Egypt.  Hence  the  laws  and  the  arts  of  the  Cretans. 
With  the  former,  the  Athenian  hero,  Theseus,  wished  to 
transplant  the  latter  also  ;  and  while  he  gave  to  his  coun- 
trymen a  similar  system  of  policy,  he  did  not  fail  to  secure 
the  co-operation  of  one  whose  knowledge  might  yield 
powerful  aid  in  humanizing  a  rude  people  by  adding  new 
dignity  to  the  objects  of  national  veneration.  Accordingly 
Daedalus,  accompanying  the  conqueror  of  the  Minotaur  to 
4 


38 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


Athens,  fixes  there  the  commencement  of  an  improved 
style,  1234  years  before  the  Christian  era.  With  Daeda- 
lus, the  artists  already  mentioned  are  described  as  nearly 
or  altogether  contemporaries. 

The  performances  of  Daedalus  were  chiefly  in  wood,  of 
which  no  fewer  than  nine,  of  large  dimensions,  are  des- 
cribed as  existing  in  the  second  century,  which,  notwith- 
standing the  injuries  of  fourteen  hundred  years,  and  the 
imperfections  of  early  taste,  seemed,  in  the  words  of  Pau- 
sanias,  to  possess  something  of  divine  expression.  Their 
author,  as  reported  by  Diodorus,  improved  upon  ancient 
art,  so  as  to  give  vivacity  to  the  attitude,  and  more  ani- 
mated expression  to  the  countenance.  Hence  we  are  not 
to  understand,  with  some,  that  Daedalus  introduced  sculp- 
ture into  Greece,  nor  even  into  Attica ;  but  simply  that  he 
was  the  first  to  form  something  like  a  school  of  art,  and 
whose  works  first  excited  the  admiration  of  his  own  rude 
age,  while  they  were  deemed  worthy  of  notice  even  in 
more  enlightened  times.  Indeed  the  details  preserved  in 
the  classic  writers,  that  he  raised  the  arms  in  varied  posi- 
tion from  the  flanks,  and  opened  the  eyes,  before  narrow 
and  blinking,  sufficiently  prove  the  extent  of  preceding 
art,  and  the  views  we  have  given  on  the  subject.  In  these 
primitive  schools,  however,  many  centuries  necessarily 
elapsed,  before  sculpture  can  be  considered  as  a  regular 
art.  Their  founders  and  pupils  were  little  more  than  in- 
genious mechanics,  who  followed  carving  among  other 
avocations.  Such  were  Endaeus  of  Athens,  celebrated  for 
three  several  statues  of  Minerva;  iEpeus,  immortalized 
as  the  fabricator  of  the  Trojan  horse ;  Icmulous,  praised 
in  the  Odyssey  as  having  sculptured  the  throne  of  Penel- 
ope ;  with  many  others  who  must  have  contributed  to  the 
arts  of  the  heroic  ages,  and  who,  if  they  did  not  rapidly 
improve,  at  least  kept  alive  the  knowledge  of  sculpture. 


SCULPTURE. 


39 


Besides  these  continental  schools,  another  must  be  des- 
cribed, which  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  was  still 
more  ancient,  and  which  certainly  attained  higher  perfec- 
tion at  an  earlier  period.  This  was  the  insular  Ionian 
school,  flourishing  in  those  delightful  isles  that  gem  the 
coast  of  Asia  Minor,  and  chiefly  in  Samos  and  Chios.  To 
this  the  continental  academies  were  even  indebted  for 
many  of  their  most  distinguished  members,  who,  leaving 
the  narrow  sphere  of  their  island  homes,  naturally  pre- 
ferred the  commercial  cities  from  the  same  causes  which 
had  rendered  these  originally  seats  of  art,  opulence,  intel- 
ligence, and  security.  Of  the  Samian  masters,  Rhaecus, 
about  the  institution  of  the  Olympiads,  or  777  B.  C,  first 
obtained  celebrity,  as  a  sculptor  in  brass,  in  which  art, 
Telecles  and  Theodorus,  his  son  and  grandson,  also  ex- 
celled. Their  works  in  ivory,  wood,  and  metal,  were 
extant  in  the  age  of  Pausanius,  whose  description  exhibits 
the  hard  and  dry  manner  of  Egypt,  whence  it  is  probable 
these  artists  had  derived  their  improvements,  distinguished 
for  very  careful  finish.  The  Chian  school  claims  the 
praise  of  first  introducing  the  use  of  a  material  to  which 
sculpture  mainly  owes  its  perfection,  namely,  marble. 
The  merit  of  this  happy  application  is  assigned  to  Malas, 
the  father  of  a  race  of  sculptors,  and  who  is  placed  about 
the  38th  Olympiad,  or  649  years  before  the  Christian  era. 
Michiades  inherited  and  improved  the  science  of  the  in- 
ventor, transmitting  to  his  own  son,  Anthermus,  the  accu- 
mulated fame  and  experience  of  two  generations  of  sculp- 
tors, to  whom,  as  to  their  successors,  the  beautiful  mar- 
bles of  their  native  island  furnished  one  rich  means  of 
superiority. 

In  the  insular,  —  and  the  evidence  is  in  favour  of  the 
Chian  school,  —  we  also  first  hear  of  bronze  statues. 
The  earliest  works  of  this  kind  were  not  cast,  but  exe- 


40 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


cuted  with  the  hammer.  Two  manners  are  discernible  ; 
large  figures  were  formed  of  plates,  and  hollow,  the  inte- 
rior being  filled  with  clay ;  in  small  pieces,  the  separate 
parts  were  brought  nearly  into  shape  in  the  solid,  after- 
wards united,  and  the  whole  finished  by  the  graver  and 
the  file.  These  methods,  in  each  of  which  rivets,  dove- 
tails, and  soldering,  formed  the  joints,  were  gradually  su- 
perseded as  the  knowledge  of  casting  was  acquired. 

About  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century  before 
Christ,  the  school  of  Sicyon  was  illustrated  by  Dipaenus 
and  Scyllis,  brothers,  the  most  famous  of  her  ancient 
masters,  and  whose  age  forms  an  era  in  the  history  of  the 
ancient  art,  marking  the  first  decided  advances  towards 
the  mastery  of  the  succeeding  style.  Their  labours  were 
in  various  materials,  the  most  esteemed  of  marble ;  and 
the  praise  of  its  application  is  shared  betwixt  them  and 
the  Chian  school.  Statues  by  these  artists,  in  Parian  mar- 
ble, were  admired  in  the  time  of  Pliny,  excited  the  cupid- 
ity of  Nero,  and  are  subsequently  described  by  one  of  the 
Christian  fathers,  from  the  peculiar  veneration  in  which 
they  were  held.  The  style  of  sculpture  had  hitherto  been 
extremely  dry  and  minute  ;  —  a  passion  for  extreme  finish, 
in  preference  to  general  effect,  had  distinguished  former 
masters.  This  taste  had  been  first  introduced,  and  after- 
wards maintained,  by  the  limited  resources  of  the  art  it- 
self, by  the  mediocrity  of  artists,  and  by  the  dress  and 
ornaments  of  the  time.  The  hair  arranged  in  undulating 
locks  or  spiral  curls,  and  sometimes  little  separate  knobs, 
was  laboured  as  if  to  be  numbered  ;  the  drapery,  disposed 
in  the  most  rigid  and  methodical  folds,  finished  with  pain- 
ful minuteness  ;  at  the  same  time  the  limbs  and  counte- 
nance retained  much  of  rude  and  incorrect  form  and 
tasteless  expression,  but  elaborated  with  the  extreme  of 
care.    It  is  far  easier,  and  the  common  error,  both  of 


SCULPTURE. 


41 


inferior  genius  and  of  an  unskilful  age,  to  bestow  on  parts 
that  talent  and  application  by  which  a  whole  is  to  be  per- 
fected. The  fault  of  fastidious  and  useless  labour,  with 
inaccuracy  of  general  result,  still  attaches  to  the  works 
of  Dipamus  and  Scyllis,  but  great  melioration  is  also  ap- 
parent; their  execution  was  much  more  free,  the  whole 
effect  more  powerful,  the  expression,  if  not  more  animated, 
more  natural,  and  the  forms  better  selected  and  composed. 
Colossal  heads,  now  in  the  British  Museum,  of  Hercules 
and  Apollo,  most  probably  of  these  masters,  afford  an 
admirable  illustration  of  these  remarks,  and  of  the  style 
of  art  at  this  early  period.  The  fiftieth  Olympiad,  shows 
all  the  necessary  inventions  and  principles  of  mechanical 
art  fully  known  and  universally  practised.  Even  so  early 
as  the  twentyninth  Olympiad,  an  equestrian  group  had 
been  executed  in  Crete  by  Aristocles ;  all  the  proper  ma- 
terials, and  the  methods  of  working  them,  had  long  been 
discovered ;  in  the  greatest  single  work  of  these  times, 
the  shrine  of  Apollo  at  Amyclae,  by  Bathycles  the  Ionian, 
every  description  of  relief  had  been  exhibited  ;  and  lastly, 
improvement  had  been  fixed  on  such  principles  of  taste 
and  composition,  as  enabled  succeeding  efforts  to  carry  it 
forward. 

The  extent  of  country  in  which  the  art  was  now  culti- 
vated, and  the  zeal  evinced  in  the  pursuit,  corresponded 
to,  while  they  increased,  the  improvement  of  taste.  Atten- 
tion is  now  directed  to  a  new  school,  that  of  Magna  Grse- 
cia,  which  (during  two  thousand  years),  had  been  gradu- 
ally rising  into  importance  and  excellence.  Its  chief  seats 
were  at  Rhegium  and  Crotona  in  Italy,  and  in  Sicily,  Sy- 
racuse and  Agrigentum.  In  these,  the  artists  first  prac- 
tised in  metal  chiefly,  afterwards  in  marble  ;  and  were 
among  the  foremost  to  perfect  iconic  statues,  —  a  source 

of  most  decided  advantage  to  the  art.    Omitting  farther 
4  # 


42 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


enumeration,  one  of  these  early  masters,  Dionysius  of 
Rhegium,  merits  to  be  mentioned  as  the  first  who  com- 
posed a  statue  of  Homer,  erected  about  the  twenty-sev- 
enth Olympiad.  This  was  an  ideal  bronze,  in  which  the 
traditionary  resemblance  had  been  preserved ;  and  from 
this  ancient  original  were  taken  those  portraits  of  the  father 
of  verse  which  are  mentioned  by  Pliny  as  so  numerous  in 
his  time,  and  of  which  one  or  two  exquisite  examples  still 
remain. 

Thus  five  centuries  and  a  half  before  the  Christian  era, 
sculpture  was  practised  with  success  throughout  the  wide 
extent  of  Greece  and  her  colonies.  During  the  former  part 
of  the  sixth  century,  however,  Sicyon,  whose  school  had 
added  to  its  ancient  supremacy  by  the  superiority  of  Dipaenus 
and  Scyllis,  continued  to  send  forth,  in  their  pupils,  the  most 
numerous  and  efficient  artists.  Of  these,  the  principal  were 
Learchus,  a  native  of  Rhegium  ;  Theocles,  Dontas,  Dorycli- 
dos,  and  Medon,  Lacedaemonians ;  Tecteus  and  Angelion 
of  Delos,  where  they  erected  a  colossal  statue  of  Apollo.  At 
Rhegium,  Clearchus  was  highly  esteemed,  and  had  a  very 
flourishing  academy  ;  while  at  Agrigentum,  Perillus  rivalled 
the  masters  of  the  parent  schools.  He  cast  the  famous 
bull  of  Phalaris,  afterwards  carried  off  by  the  Carthagin- 
ians, restored  by  Scipio,  again  the  object  of  the  cupidity 
of  Verres,  and  of  the  praise  of  Cicero,  whose  words,  ille 
nobilis  Taurus,  prove  that  the  skill  of  those  early  ages 
has  not  been  too  highly  appreciated. 

But  the  fame  of  all  preceding  sculptors  has  suffered 
from  the  superior  reputation  of  the  two  Chian  brothers, 
Bupalus  and  Anthemis,  who  lived  517  years  B.  C.  They 
were  the  first  who  brought  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection 
the  discovery  of  their  ancestors,  —  sculpture  in  marble. 
Both  Greece  and  Asia  strove  to  possess  their  works,  which 
were  equally  numerous  and  excellent,  and  on  which  was 


SCULPTURE. 


43 


inscribed,  not  their  own,  but  their  father's  name  and  their 
country's,  in  the  following  verse  :  '  The  sons  of  Anther- 
mus  will  render  thee,  O  Chios,  more  renowned  than  thy 
vines  have  yet  done.'  The  beauty  of  these  works  caused 
them  to  be  highly  valued  in  all  succeeding  ages,  and  they 
formed  part  of  those  master-pieces  removed  to  Rome  by 
order  of  Augustus. 

During  the  period  of  fiftyeight  years,  from  the  sixtieth 
to  the  seventysecond  Olmpiad,  and  the  battle  of  Marathon, 
sculpture  throughout  Greece  was  vigorously  exercised,  and 
writh  corresponding  success.  At  Athens,  which,  though 
distinguished  in  the  very  commencement  of  our  narrative, 
has  subsequently  appeared  in  the  back  ground,  Pisistratus 
laid  the  foundation  of  that  school  whence  afterwards 
issued  the  new  lights  of  the  art.  This  extraordinary  man 
perceived  and  applied  the  proper  remedy  to  the  poverty  of 
Attica  :  he  introduced  manufactures  and  encouraged  com- 
merce ;  and  while  the  true  sources  of  political  greatness 
were  thus  opened,  the  more  enviable  supremacy  of  his 
country  was  secured  in  the  intellectual  empire  of  litera- 
ture and  the  arts  of  elegance.  Yet  this  man  has  been 
termed,  in  the  history  of  that  very  country,  a  tyrant,  be- 
cause he  saved  her  from  her  worst  enemy,  the  mob  —  mis- 
called free  citizens  —  slaves  of  their  own  passions,  and 
agents  in  the  hands  of  demagogues.  Our  own  times  are 
not  without  similar  prejudices.  Mankind  seem  destined, 
in  all  ages,  to  be  the  dupes  of  fears  and  of  phantoms 
which  they  themselves  have  evoked,  and  which  distract 
attention  from  real  danger.  Happy  that  state,  governed 
by  rulers,  who,  like  Pisistratus,  will  respect  the  essentials 
of  free  institutions,  who  will  consecrate  the  resources  of 
the  state  to  promote  the  national  grandeur,  and  save  the 
people  from  themselves !  Under  his  protection  were  as- 
sembled the  most  esteemed  artists  of  all  descriptions :  of 


44 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


sculptors,  Eucharis  was  famous  for  the  figures  of  warriors 
in  armour ;  and  Callon  for  statues  of  bronze.  Callima- 
chus  is  praised  as  master  of  all  the  arts  of  design,  and  in 
sculptural  composition  had  introduced  a  lightness  and  ele- 
gance before  unattained. 

In  other  parts  of  Greece,  during  the  same  interval, 
were  the  following:  Dameas,  of  whose  works,  the  statue 
of  his  compatriot  Milo  was  the  most  celebrated,  and  which 
the  latter,  among  his  other  wonderful  feats,  carried  to  the 
place  of  erection.  Polycletus,  the  first  of  the  name,  and  his 
master  Ageladas,  finished  at  Argos,  their  native  city,  the 
statue  of  Cleosthenes  in  a  car,  soon  after  the  sixtyseventh 
Olympiad,  and  one  of  the  greatest  works  yet  undertaken. 
At  Sicyon  were  the  brothers  Canachus  and  Aristocles, 
whose  two  Muses  were  the  finest  statues  then  known  ;  and 
of  which,  one  is  supposed  to  be  the  famous  antique  now 
in  the  Barbarini  palace.  Ascarus,  at  Elis,  produced  a 
Jupiter  crowned  with  flowers ;  Menecmus  and  Soidas  a 
Diana,  afterwards  placed  in  the  palace  of  Augustus.  Me- 
necmus was  the  first  who  wrote  on  the  principles  of  his 
art.  The  Dioscorides  of  Egesias,  contemporary  with  the 
Persian  invasion,  have,  by  a  misinterpretation  of  Pliny, 
been  assigned  to  the  figures  now  on  Monte  Cavallo,  at 
Rome. 

The  victory  of  Marathon,  B.  C.  490,  inspired  fresh 
vigour  into  the  genius  and  institutions  of  Greece.  From 
this  date,  to  the  government  of  Pericles,  intervenes  a 
period  in  moral  grandeur,  the  brightest,  perhaps,  in  Gre- 
cian history.  Of  the  sculptors  who  then  flourished,  the 
immediate  predecessors,  or  early  contemporaries,  of  Phi- 
dias, the  following  were  the  chief :  Onatas  and  Glaucias, 
of  Egina ;  the  one  modelled  an  admirable  statue  of  Gelon, 
king  of  Syracuse  ;  the  other,  an  iconic  figure  of  Thea- 
gines  of  Thasos,  four  hundred  times  victorious  in  the  pub- 


SCULPTURE. 


45 


lie  games.  Critias  replaced  the  statues  of  Harmodias  and 
Aristogiton,  the  originals  having  been  carried  off  by  Xerxes. 
Calarnis  was  still  more  renowned  for  his  horses,  which 
were  likewise  iconic  statues  —  a  proof  how  early  nature 
was  admitted  as  the  only  guide  in  every  department  of 
sculpture.  Pythagoras  of  Rhegium  surpassed  all  his  pre- 
decessors ;  his  statues  of  Enthymus  and  Astylas,  conquer- 
ors in  the  Olympic  games,  were  masterpieces  of  form  ; 
and  in  expression,  his  Philoctetes  exhibited  deeper  and 
truer  sentiment  than  had  yet  appeared  in  any  work.  The 
name  of  Pythagoras,  indeed,  is  closely  associated  with  the 
general  advancement  of  the  art,  as  ranking  among  the 
inventors  of  that  system  of  proportion  which,  derived  from 
nature,  taught  to  unite  elegance  with  truth,  and  which 
invariably  guided  the  practice,  while  its  perfection  was 
improved  by  the  discoveries,  of  each  succeeding  master. 
In  the  mechanical  department,  also,  his  manner  was  more 
bold,  firm,  and  graceful,  in  delicacy  of  style  being  placed 
by  Quintilian  inferior  only  to  Myron,  the  last  and  the 
greatest  of  the  early  school. 

Myron,  a  native  of  Eleutherae,  exercised  his  profession 
chiefly  at  Athens,  of  which  he  enjoyed  the  citizenship. 
The  decline  of  his  life  corresponds  with  the  early  labours 
of  Phidias :  Myron  thus  unites  the  first  and  second  ages 
of  Grecian  sculpture,  combining  in  his  works  many  of  the 
essential  excellences  of  its  perfection,  with  some  of  the 
remaining  hardness  and  defects  of  its  pupillage.  In 
adopting  this  chronology,  we  seem  to  reconcile  conflicting 
opinions  both  with  each  other  and  with  history.  The  prin- 
cipal works  of  Myron  were  in  bronze,  and  the  most  colos- 
sal in  wood  ;  consequently,  no  original  of  his  hand  has 
come  down  to  modern  times.  There  can,  however,  be  no 
doubt  that  the  famous  Discobolos  is  preserved  to  us  in 
more  than  one  antique  repetition.    Hence,  and  from  the 


46 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


writings  of  the  orators  and  historians,  a  fair  estimate  of  his 
merits  may  be  deduced.  His  composition  was  distin- 
guished for  energy,  science,  and  truth.  Iconic  statues  he 
carried  to  a  degree  of  excellence  and  vigour,  as  in  the 
portrait  of  Ladus,  unsurpassed  in  any  succeeding  age. 
The  Bacchus,  Erectheus,  and  Apollo,  executed  by  order 
of  the  state,  were  not  less  admired  by  the  Athenians  ;  the 
last,  carried  away  by  Antony,  was  restored  to  them  by 
Augustus,  in  consequence  of  a  dream.  His  representa- 
tions of  animals  were  equally  admirable ;  and  seem,  if 
possible,  to  have  been  more  universally  praised,  judging 
from  the  circumstance  of  no  fewer  than  thirty  six  lauda- 
tory poems  on  the  famous  heifer  being  still  extant  in  the 
Anthology.  Myron  carried  mere  imitative  art  to  its  ut- 
most limits ;  yet  in  some  of  the  minor  details,  the  dry 
manner  of  the  first  ages  appeared.  Sculpture,  as  the  rep- 
resentation of  the  external  form,  he  perfected;  but  as  an 
instrument  of  touching  the  heart  —  of  elevating  the  ima- 
gination —  of  embodying  sentiment,  he  proved  unequal  to 
call  forth  its  powers.  He  represented  nature  forcibly  and 
with  fidelity,  but  without  grandeur  or  ideal  elevation.  An 
important  approach,  however,  to  just  conceptions  of  ab- 
stract beauty,  is  to  be  perceived  in  the  principle  which  he 
is  said  first  to  have  promulgated,  —  that  propriety  in  the 
separate  parts  was  beauty,  or  that  a  work  of  art  was  beau- 
tiful as  a  whole,  according  as  the  partial  forms  and  pro- 
portions corresponded  to  their  offices  and  to  the  general 
character.  This,  in  fact,  is  the  essence  of  corporeal 
beauty,  the  highest  refinement  of  material  art ;  and  as- 
signs to  form,  independent  of  mind,  the  noblest  expression 
of  which  it  is  susceptible.  This  is  the  utmost  range 
attained  by  the  genius  of  this  the  first  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  art  in  Greece,  and  an  admirable  ground-work  for 
the  sublimity,  and  refined  perceptions  of  the  beautiful, 
added  in  the  era  that  followed. 


SCULPTURE. 


47 


Casting  a  retrospect  over  the  ages  that  have  passed  in 
review,  how  are  we  struck  with  the  slow  and  painful  growth 
of  human  invention  !  The  collective  energies  and  discov- 
eries of  a  thousand  years  were  required  to  rear  the  arts 
of  Greece  —  not  to  their  perfection,  but  to  the  state  where 
the  first  decided  approaches  to  it  commence.  Such  is  the 
length  of  time  from  the  first  feeble  glimmerings  of  imita- 
tive art  to  the  era  of  Diprenus  and  Scyllis,  Bupalus  and 
Anthermus.  The  interval  of  forty  years  occupied  by 
these  artists,  from  the  fiftieth  to  the  sixtieth  Olympiad, 
may  be  considered  as  terminating  the  old,  and  introducing 
the  new  school.  The  art  was  now  in  possession  of  all  the 
means  and  instruments,  the  correct  application  of  which 
bound  the  aspirings  and  the  praise  of  mediocrity,  but 
which  merely  become  subservient  to  the  aims  of  loftier 
minds.  During  part  of  this  period,  also,  these  means  were 
industriously,  and  with  daily  improving  skill,  employed. 
From  this  date  to  the  battle  of  Marathon,  an  interval  of 
fifty-eight  years,  improvement  was  rapid  in  every  corner 
of  Greece  and  her  colonies.  Fortunately,  also,  the  move- 
ment then  given  to  Sculpture  was  one  of  diffuse  activity, 
not  an  influence  derived  from,  and  sustained  amongst,  a 
few  leading  minds,  whose  authority  might  thus  have  ope- 
rated fatally,  by  binding  down  to  fixed  and  imperfect  modes 
the  aspirings  of  future  genius.  This  advantage  was  se- 
cured by  the  number  of  independent  states  forming  the 
Grecian  confederacy,  a  constitution,  which,  throughout 
the  whole  history  of  ancient  art,  exercised  the  most  bene- 
ficial effects,  both  by  preventing  mannerism,  in  taste,  and 
by  nourishing  emulation. 

The  Persian  invasion,  the  victories  of  Marathon,  Sala- 
mis,  and  Platea,  awakened  a  new  energy  in  the  moral 
character  of  Greece,  infusing  at  the  same  time  into  her 
institutions  a  vigour  and  a  stability  before  unknown. 


48 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


From  the  elevation  she  had  now  attained  among  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  her  genius  rushed  forward  as  from  van- 
tage ground.  In  every  field  of  mental  enterprise,  indeed, 
a  certain  preparation  had  already  been  made,  and  in  some 
the  best  exertions  had  long  been  achieved.  In  poetry  a 
sublimity  had  been  attained,  which  has  yet  set  at  nought 
all  succeeding  rivalry.  But  in  that  knowledge,  and  in  those 
arts,  which  depend  less  upon  individual  eminence,  and 
more  upon  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  and  upon  a 
strong  national  interest,  —  in  all  those  studies  which  em- 
brace numbers  by  their  consequences  or  their  success, 
which  demand  the  union  of  patient  perseverence  with 
high  talent,  and  finally,  which  pertain  to  the  business  of 
public  life,  and  require  deep  insight  into  the  nicer  dis- 
tinctions of  human  character  —  all,  from  this  happy  era, 
with  an  almost  supernatural  progress,  attained  maturity. 

The  opulence  and  security,  with  the  resulting  conscious- 
ness of  power,  and  the  love  of  elegance,  which  followed 
the  defeat  of  the  Barbarians,  proved  especially  propitious 
to  the  arts  of  sculpture  and  architecture.  If  in  the  former 
any  doubt  be  entertained,  what  the  difference  of  improve- 
ment was  between  the  artists  who  preceded  and  those  who 
followed  the  age  of  Xerxes,  we  have  only  to  recall  the 
fortunes  of  the  drama  during  the  same  heart-stirring 
period.  In  the  last  of  the  74th  Olympiad,  A.  C.  489,  or 
one  year  after  the  battle  of  Marathon,  iEschylus  placed  the 
first  wreath  upon  the  solemn  brow  of  Tragedy.  Not 
twenty  years  afterwards,  the  warrior  bard  was  vanquished 
by  his  youthful  rival.  Between  the  Prometheus  of  ^Es- 
chylus,  then,  and  the  GEdipus  of  Sophocles,  we  find  as 
wide  an  interval  as  is  necessary  to  suppose  between  the 
sculptures  contemporary  with  the  former,  and  the  produc- 
tions of  Polycletus  or  Myron. 


SCULPTURE. 


49 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  age  of  Pericles  seemed  marked  out  by  fortune  as 
a  distinguished  epoch  in  the  history  of  his  country.  The 
fine  talents,  also,  and  popular  qualities  of  this  accomplished 
statesman,  were  admirably  adapted  to  turn  to  the  best 
account  the  propitious  circumstances  of  the  period.  To 
the  further  progress  of  the  fine  arts,  and  of  sculpture  in 
particular,  preceding  events,  and  their  present  consequen- 
ces, almost  necessarily  contributed  ;  while  the  condition 
of  the  art  itself  was  just  fitted  to  receive  the  perfecting 
impulse. 

The  energies  of  sculpture,  likewise,  were  now  to  be 
more  directly  concentrated  in  one  parent  school ;  which, 
while  it  especially  adorned  one  seat,  preserved  yet  the 
stirring  rivalry  of  honorable  emulation,  as  being  the 
common  seminary  of  free  and  independent  states.  The 
noble  stand  she  had  made,  her  superior  sacrifices  and 
sufferings  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  directed  to  Athens  the 
sympathy  and  deference  of  Greece.  The  prosperity*  too,, 
of  her  political  situation,  was  suitable  to  the  support  of 
this  moral  pre-eminence.  Provided  with  means  of  defence 
and  of  commerce,  on  a  scale  which  seemed  to  contemplate 
future  empire,  she  was  left  by  Themistocles  with  ample 
resources  —  a  noble  field  of  fame  and  recompense  for  the 
artist.  He  himself,  satisfied  with  the  useful,  had  cared 
less  about  the  ornamental ;  but,  among  the  little  he  did 
add,  were  the  lions,  now  at  Venice,  originally  placed  on 
the  entrance  to  the  Piraeus,  in  which  fidelity  of  detail,  and 
grandeur  of  conception,  have  furnished  to  us  existing  evi- 
dence of  the  skill  of  this  age. 

Great  as  they  were,  the  mind  of  Phidias  proved  equal 
to  these  external  advantages.  Possessing  that  rarest 
5 


50 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


and  highest  of  all  genius  which  is  at  once  creative  and 
regular  —  learned,  yet  original,  he  caught  the  inspiration 
of  art  in  the  most  elevated  range  of  the  past,  bringing  in 
his  own  attainments  a  sublimity  and  truth  yet  unequalled 
by  all  that  has  followed. 

This  great  master,  the  son  of  Charmidas,  an  Athenian 
citizen,  was  born  about  the  72d  Olympiad,  or  nearly  500 
years  before  our  era,  and  studied  under  Eladas,  His 
numerous  works  belonged  to  three  distinct  classes :  To- 
reutic, or  statues  of  mixed  materials,  ivory  being  the  chief, 
—  statues  of  bronze,  —  sculptures  in  marble.  In  this 
enumeration  are  included  only  capital  performances,  for 
exercises  in  wood,  plaster,  clay,  and  minute  labours  in 
in  carving,  are  recorded  occasionally  to  have  occupied  his 
attention.  The  beauty  of  these  miniatures  was  not  infe- 
rior to  the  excellence  of  his  greater  works ;  at  once  sub- 
lime and  ingenious,  he  executed  grand  undertakings  with 
majesty  and  force,  and  the  most  minute  with  simplicity 
and  truth. 

'  Artis  Phidiacte  toreuma  durum 
Pisces  adspieis  :  adde  aquam,  natabunt.' 

i  These  fish  are  iv'ry  —  but  by  Phidias  made  : 
From  want  of  water  only  seem  they  dead.' 

Of  the  works  belonging  to  the  first  division,  the  Olym- 
pian Jupiter,  and  the  Minerva  of  the  Parthenon,  colossal 
statues  composed  of  gold  and  ivory,  were  the  most  won- 
derful productions  of  ancient  art.  The  former,  placed  in 
the  Temple  at  Elis,  was  sixty  feet  high,  in  a  reposing  at- 
titude, the  body  naked  to  the  cincture,  the  lower  limbs 
clothed  in  a  robe  gemmed  with  golden  flowers ;  the  hair 
also  was  of  gold,  bound  with  an  enamelled  crown ;  the 
eyes  of  precious  stones ;  the  rest  of  ivory.  Notwith- 
standing the  gigantic  proportions,  every  part  was  wrought 
with  the  most  scrupulous  delicacy  ;  even  the  splendid 


SCULPTURE. 


51 


throne  was  carved  with  exquisite  nicety.  The  whole  was 
finished  before  the  artist  had  obtained  the  direction  of  the 
public  works  of  the  Athenians,  in  the  83d  Olympiad 
after  a  labour  of  ten  years ;  the  same  date  in  which  He- 
rodotus read  the  second  part  of  his  history,  the  first  regu. 
lar  prose  composition  that  had  been  heard  at  Athens. 

About  twelve  years  later  was  executed  the  Minerva,  of 
inferior  dimensions,  being  only  forty  feet  in  altitude,  but 
equal,  if  not  superior,  in  beauty  of  workmanship  and  rich- 
ness of  material,  the  nude  being  of  ivory,  the  ornaments 
of  gold.  A  flowing  tunic  added  grace  to  the  erect  atti- 
tude of  the  goddess :  in  one  hand  was  a  spear,  upon  the 
head  a  casque;  on  the  ground  a  buckler,  exquisitely 
carved,  the  concave  representing  the  giants'  war,  the  con- 
vex a  conflict  with  the  Amazons,  portraits  of  the  artist 
and  of  his  patron  being  introduced  among  the  Athenian 
combatants  —  one  cause  of  the  future  misfortunes  which 
envy  brought  upon  the  author.  On  the  golden  sandals 
was  also  sculptured  another  favorite  subject,  the  battle  of 
the  Centaurs,  praised  by  historians  as  a  perfect  gem  of 
minute  art. 

Such  admiration  attached  to  these  two  works,  that  they 
were  regarded  as  '  having  added  majesty  to  the  received 
religion  and  it  was  esteemed  a  misfortune  not  to  have 
been  able,  once  in  a  lifetime,  to  behold  them.  Yet  judged 
according  to  the  true  principles  of  genuine  art,  theirs  was 
not  a  legitimate  beauty.  It  does  not  excite  surprise,  then, 
to  learn  that  Phidias  himself  disapproved  of  the  mixed 
effect  produced  by  such  a  combination  of  different  sub- 
stances, nor  will  it  appear  presumptuous  here  to  condemn 
these  splendid  representations.  It  is  not  sufficient  that  a 
work  of  art  does  produce  a  powerful  impression  —  it  is 
indispensable  to  its  excellence  that  the  means  employed 
be  in  accordance  with  the  principles  and  the  mode  of  imi- 


52 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


tation.  Now,  in  the  compositions  just  described,  exposed 
as  they  were  to  the  dim  light  of  the  ancient  temple,  and 
from  very  magnitude  imperfectly  comprehended,  the  effects 
of  variously  reflecting  surfaces,  now  gloom,  now  glowing 
of  unearthly  lustre,  must  have  been  rendered  doubly  im- 
posing. But  this  influence,  though  well  calculated  to 
increase  superstitious  devotion,  or  to  impress  mysterious 
terror  on  the  bewildered  sense,  was  meretricious,  altogether 
diverse  from  the  solemn  repose,  the  simple  majesty  of  form 
and  expression,  which  constitute  the  true  sublimity  of 
sculptural  representation. 

Statuary,  or  the  art  of  casting  in  bronze,  as  the  term 
was  used  by  the  ancients,  Phidias  carried  to  unrivalled 
perfection.  The  Amazon,  the  Minerva,  at  Lemnos,  and 
in  the  Acropolis,  were  considered  as  the  masterpieces  in 
this  department.  The  last,  called  the  Minerva  Polias, 
was  of  such  majestic  proportions,  that  the  crest  and  hel- 
met might  be  discerned  above  the  battlements  of  the  cita- 
del at  a  distance  of  twentyfive  miles,  pointing  home  to 
the  Athenian  mariner,  as  he  rounded  the  promontory  of 
Sunium.  Of  these  and  other  works,  descriptions  alone 
remain  ;  we  are  consequently  indebted  for  our  positive 
knowledge  of  his  style  and  principles  to  the  marble  sculp- 
tures of  Phidias,  in  which  department  numerous  admira- 
ble performances  of  his  hand  have  also  perished  ;  but  we 
have  here  an  advantage  in  the  possession  of  undoubted 
originals  denied  in  every  other  instance. 

Of  the  scholars  of  Phidias,  the  most  esteemed  were 
Alcamenes  the  Athenian,  and  Agoracritus  of  Paros. 
Their  real  merit,  however,  is  matter  of  uncertainty,  since 
their  works  are  reported  to  have  been  retouched  by  their 
master,  who  was  likewise  in  the  habit  of  inscribing  his 
statues  with  the  names  of  his  favorite  pupils.  Indeed,  the 
sublime  style  perfected  by  Phidias  seems  almost  to  have 


SCULPTURE. 


53 


expired  with  himself —  not  that  the  art  declined,  but  a 
predilection  for  subjects  of  beauty,  and  the  softer  graces, 
in  preference  to  more  heroic  and  masculine  character, 
with  the  exception  of  the  grand  relievos  on  the  temple  of 
Olympia,  may  be  traced  even  among  his  immediate  disci- 
ples. Among  his  contemporaries,  indeed,  Polycletus,  the 
second  of  the  name,  has  been  by  some  placed  equal  in 
grandeur  of  style,  while  by  others  he  has  been  described 
as  unequal,  to  the  majesty  of  the  great  Athenian.  Poly- 
cletus himself  appears  to  have  decided  the  controversy,  by 
showing,  from  the  selection  of  his  subjects,  that  his  genius 
carried  him  to  the  imitation  rather  of  the  beautiful  than 
the  great.  His  most  celebrated  performances  were  the 
statues  of  two  youths,  both  nude,  the  Diadumenos  and 
the  Doryphorus,  so  called  from  their  action  of  binding  the 
head  with  a  fillet,  and  bearing  a  spear.  The  latter  formed 
the  famous  6  canon,'  from  which,  as  from  an  unerring 
standard,  all  succeeding  artists,  even  Lysippus,  borrowed 
their  proportions.  Among  contemporaries,  also,  a  most 
distinguished  station  must  have  been  occupied  by  Ctesi- 
laus,  since  he  contested  with  Phidias  and  Polycletus  the 
public  prize  of  merit  for  a  statue  to  be  dedicated  in  the 
temple  of  the  Ephesian  Diana.  To  this  artist  is  errone- 
ously ascribed  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  art  now  in 
existence,  miscalled,  but  best  known  as,  the  Dying  Gladi- 
ator, and  which,  more  than  any  other  ancient  example, 
discovers  the  most  profound  knowledge  of  the  internal 
structure  of  the  human  frame. 

From  the  banishment  and  death  of  Phidias,  which 
occurred  some  time  before  his  patron  died  of  the  plague, 
in  the  last  year  of  the  eightyseventh  Olympiad,  the  history 
of  art  is  carried  forward  through  a  period,  one  of  the 
most  stormy  and  unsettled  in  the  Grecian  annals.  He 
beheld  the  commencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  an 
5* 


54 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


event,  indeed,  Pericles  is  accused  of  having  at  least  has- 
tened, in  order  to  screen  his  remaining  friends  from  those 
accusations  of  which  the  sculptor  had  been  the  guiltless 
victim.  During  thirty  years  of  hostile  commotions,  the 
arts  flourished  with  almost  unimpaired  vigor,,  except  that 
towards  the  close  of  the  contest,  sculpture,  which  had 
naturally  participated  in  the  fortunes  of  Athens,  suffered 
a  decline  in  this  its  capital  school.  The  spirit  of  the  age 
generally,  however,  united  with  the  sentiment  of  hostility 
a  more  generous  rivalry  in  excellence  of  every  kind.  The 
grand  and  beautiful  in  art  continued  to  be  followed  and 
admired,  while,  amid  the  contention  of  arms,  eloquence 
began  to  attain  that  nervous  elegance  which  yet  renders 
attic  oratory  the  finest  model  of  deliberative  procedure. 
Even  the  less  friendly  interval  which  followed  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  iron  rule  of  Sparta  —  the  ruin  of  the 
milder  and  more  splendid  dominion  of  Athens  —  and, 
more  disastrous  still,  the  war  kindled  by  the  ambition  of 
Thebes,  with  the  various  isolated  struggles  arising  out  of 
these  leading  events,  appear  to  have  produced  no  material 
degradation  in  that  heroic  style,  whose  lofty  character  har- 
monized with  the  strong  excitement  of  contests  for  free- 
dom or  empire. 

Of  the  artists  who  adorned  this  stirring  era,  the  names 
of  nearly  fifty,  with  descriptions  of  certain  of  their  works, 
have  been  handed  down  in  the  incidental  notices  of  con- 
temporary history,  or  in  the  more  detailed  accounts  of 
Pausanius,  Strabo,  and  Pliny.  Naucydes  was  author  of 
that  beautiful  figure  holding  a  discus,  and  measuring  in 
his  own  mind  the  distance,  of  which  antique  copies  remain, 
admired  for  fine  position,  sweet  variety  of  contour,  and 
unaffected  expression.  Leochares,  Bryaxis,  and  Timo- 
theus,  assisted  in  the  erection  of  the  tomb  of  Mausolus, 
where  Scopas,  superior  to  all  others  mentioned,  presided. 


SCULPTURE. 


55 


Thus  his  age  is  fixed  about  the  102d  Olympiad,  or  370 
B.  C.  To  the  chisel  of  this  eminent  artist  is  ascribed  the 
Townley  Venus,  or  Dione,  now  in  the  British  Museum, 
as  also  the  group  of  Niobe  at  Florence.  Grace,  softness, 
and  truth,  were  the  characteristics  of  his  style,  which  may 
be  considered  as  forming  the  intermediate  gradation  be- 
tween that  of  Phidias  and  those  of  Praxiteles  and  Lysip- 
pus ;  between  the  two  grand  divisions  of  Greek  sculpture, 
the  schools  of  grandeur  and  of  beauty. 

In  the  era  and  labours  of  Phidias,  we  discover  the  ut- 
most excellence  to  which  Grecian  genius  attained  in  the 
arts.  From  an  examination,  then,  of  this  excellence,  we 
shall  not  only  obtain  a  knowledge  of  that  style  pronounced 
by  the  Greeks  themselves  to  be  their  proudest  achieve- 
ment in  sculpture,  but  may  also  be  able  to  elicit  princi- 
ples of  the  highest  general  importance  in  the  philosophy 
of  imitative  art.  This  inquiry  likewise  demands  atten- 
tion, were  it  merely  on  account  of  the  singularly  fortunate 
circumstances  under  which  it  can  be  instituted.  Res- 
pecting the  most  esteemed  masterpieces  of  antiquity,  rea- 
sonable doubts  still  exist  how  far  our  judgments  are  formed 
upon  real  originals.  But  in  the  marbles  of  the  British 
Museum,  the  former  ornaments  of  the  Parthenon,  we  cer- 
tainly behold  the  conceptions,  and,  in  some  measure, 
the  very  practice  of  the  great  Athenian  sculptor.  Both 
statues  and  relievos  compose  these  precious  remains, 
one  of  the  noblest  bequests  of  ancient  to  modern  talent. 
The  statues  adorned  the  two  tympana  of  the  Parthe- 
non, which  was  amphiprostylos  or  double-fronted,  con- 
sisting, besides  fragments,  of  fourteen  groups,  or  seven- 
teen figures,  of  the  natural  proportions.  The  relievos 
are  of  two  kinds,  one  of  which  formed  the  inner  frieze  of 
the  cella,  and  flat,  representing  the  procession  of  the  Pana- 
thenean  festival ;  the  other,  consisting  of  fifteen  metopes 


56 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


of  the  exterior  peristyle,  very  bold,  even  to  entire  round- 
ness in  some  parts,  the  subject,  combats  of  the  Centaurs 
with  the  followers  of  Theseus,  appropriate  to  a  national 
temple. 

In  these  sculptures,  the  technicality  is  of  unequal  merit ; 
but  in  the  design,  the  presence  of  the  same  mind  is  visi- 
ble throughout.  In  the  statues,  and  in  the  frieze,  of  which 
nearly  two  hundred  feet  still  remain,  the  execution  gene- 
rally approaches  so  near  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the 
composition,  that  we  seem  to  trace  not  only  one  intelli- 
gence, but  one  hand ;  in  the  metopes,  again,  a  baldness 
of  rendering,  utterly  inconsistent  with  the  fervid  idea,  is 
occasionally  perceivable.  These  contradictions  would 
naturally  arise  from,  and  can  be  explained  only  by,  the 
fact  that  the  master-spirit  overlooking  the  whole  trusted 
the  expressing  of  his  conceptions  to  assistants  of  dissimilar 
capacity.  Of  the  intellectual  character,  grandeur  is  the 
prevailing  principle ;  the  grandeur  of  simplicity  and  na- 
ture, devoid  of  all  parade  or  ostentation  of  art.  The 
means  are  forgotten  in  their  very  excellence,  and  in  the 
fullest  accomplishment  of  the  end.  The  ancient  critics, 
who,  in  speaking  of  Phidias,  seem  to  labour  with  the  power 
of  those  ideas  awakened  by  the  contemplation  of  his 
works,  are  fond  of  comparing  their  effects  to  those  of  the 
eloquence  of  their  most  accomplished  orators.  The  com- 
parison is  happy.  The  sculpture  of  Phidias  might  well  be 
assimilated  to  Demosthenian  eloquence,  in  the  truth  and 
affecting  interest  of  its  imagery,  and  in  its  power  of  bear- 
ing the  whole  soul  along  in  our  engrossing  feeling.  But 
the  sternness  and  the  severity  of  the  orator,  the  taking  of 
the  heart  by  force,  attach  not  to  the  artist :  all  is  here 
sweet  and  gracious ;  we  are  willing  captives  to  the  witch- 
ery of  art.  It  is  this  union  of  the  graceful  and  the  pleas- 
ing with  the  energetic  and  the  great,  which  constitutes 


SCULPTURE. 


57 


the  surpassing  merit  of  the  works  we  are  considering. 
Exquisitely  delicate  in  the  minute,  in  the  grand,  the  style 
is  bold,  vigorous,  and  flowing.  Their  author,  to  use  the 
language  of  antiquity,  united  the  three  characteristics  of 
truth,  grandeur,  and  minute  refinement ;  exhibiting  ma- 
jesty, gravity,  breadth,  and  magnificence  of  composition, 
with  a  practice  scrupulous  in  detail,  and  truth  of  individ- 
ual representation,  yet  in  the  handling  rapid,  broad,  and 
firm.  This  harmonious  assemblage  of  qualities,  in  them- 
selves dissimilar,  in  their  results  the  same,  gives  to  the 
productions  of  this  master  an  ease,  a  grace,  a  vitality,  re- 
sembling more  the  spontaneous  overflowings  of  inspiration 
than  the  laborious  offspring  of  thought  and  science. 

The  attentive  study  of  the  remaining  labours  of  Phidias, 
and,  fortunately  for  the  arts  of  Britain,  their  final  abiding 
place  is  with  us,  will  supply  a  criterion  by  which  to  esti- 
mate the  principles  of  the  beautiful  in  execution,  and  of 
the  ideal  in  imitative  art,  as  exercised  among  the  Greeks 
in  the  most  splendid  period  of  their  refinement,  and  will 
prove  guides  by  which  we  may  emulate,  perhaps,  equal, 
our  masters. 

In  all  that  merely  meets  the  eye,  the  marbles  of  the 
Parthenon  display  the  finest  keeping,  with  the  general 
nobleness  of  their  intellectual  character.  But  the  execu- 
tion is  perfect,  simply  because  the  composition  is  so.  It 
comes  not  forward  as  an  independent  merit.  Its  exqui- 
site mechanism  operates  without  intruding.  Unseen  and 
unfelt  amid  the  intelligence  it  conveys,  it  is  finally  noticed 
as  an  harmonious  element  of  a  perfect  whole,  and  only 
then  calls  forth  an  especial  admiration.  The  finish  is  high, 
and  even  delicate,  because  the  extreme  beauty  and  cor- 
rectness of  the  design  required  to  be  rendered  with  corres- 
ponding elegance  and  ease.  The  chiselling  is  at  once 
detailed  and  vigorous,  harmonizing  with  attitudes  and 


58 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


expressions  full  of  vivacity,  natural  grace,  and  dignity. 
The  touch  is  broad,  the  forms  decided  —  the  marking 
deep  and  firm,  according  with  and  increasing  the  general 
grandeur  and  conception.  The  style  of  design,  indeed, 
is,  in  the  strictest  acceptation,  learned,  the  parts  being 
pronounced  with  a  decision  and  truth  unequalled,  we  are 
almost  inclined  to  say,  in  any  other  remain  of  antiquity. 

The  ideal  of  Phidias  is  derived  entirely  from  nature,  as 
the  true  ideal  of  art  must  ever  be.    Much  has  been  said 
respecting  the  import  of  this  term  among  the  ancients  ; 
and  the  words  their  writers  have  employed  in  speaking  of 
this  very  master,  have  been  construed  into  meanings  not 
only  inconsistent  with,  but  subversive  of,  the  principles  of 
genuine  excellence.    If,  by  the  divine  archetypes  which 
he  is  reported  to  have  followed,  be  implied,  that  he  copied 
after  ideas  not  existing  in  nature  —  living  and  tangible 
nature,  the  breathing  works  before  us  attest,  that  whether 
ancients  or  moderns,  these  critics  speak  with  more  zeal 
than  knowledge.    In  the  Elgin  marbles,  every  concep- 
tion deeply  participates  of  human  sentiment  and  action, 
so  intimately  does  the  representation  belong  to  reality,  that 
every  form  seems,  by  the  touch  of  enchantment,  to  have 
become  marble  in  the  very  energies  of  its  natural  life. 
This  happy  effect  of  truth,  however,  does  not  arise  from 
the  imitation  of  common,  that  is,  of  imperfect  types ; 
neither  is  nature  the  only  real  object  of  art,  viewed  through 
any  medium  of  fancy,  nor  imitated  according  to  conven- 
tional or  imaginative  principles.    The  artist  has  only 
looked  abroad  upon  all  existence,  refining  partial  concep- 
tions and  limited  modes  by  the  unerring  and  collected 
harmonies  of  the  whole.  The  true  ideal,  then  —  the  ideal 
of  Grecian  sculpture,  as  beheld  in  these  its  sublimest  pro- 
ductions, is  but  the  embodied  union  of  whatever  of  beauty 
and  perfection  still  lingers  among  the  forms  of  nature 


SCULPTURE. 


59 


viewed  universally  —  free  from  individuality  or  accident 
Truth  is  thus  the  primary  constituent  of  the  ideal.  Beauty 
is  the  perfect  expression  of  this  truth,  agreeably  to  the  most 
unblemished  and  purest  models  which  general  nature  pre- 
sents. In  this  union  of  collective  excellence  and  individ- 
ual verisimilitude,  the  mind  feels,  and  at  once  acknowl- 
edges, a  power  of  awakening  and  reflecting  its  own 
truest,  best  sympathies.  These  principles  are  unfolded  in 
their  purest  elements  ;  and  the  modes  of  accomplishing 
this  union  distinctly  traceable  by  careful  observation  on 
the  style  of  Phidias.  The  forms  are,  in  the  first  place, 
composed  with  the  most  correct,  but  unostentatious  sci- 
ence ;  hence  the  freedom  of  their  movements,  the  ease  of 
their  attitudes,  seeming  to  possess  the  same  capabilities 
of  momentary  action  as  the  living  models.  In  this  ana- 
tomical knowledge,  too,  as  actually  displayed,  there  is  a 
truly  admirable  simplicity  :  the  bones  and  muscles  are,  in- 
deed, pronounced  with  a  firmness  rare  in  antique  sculp- 
ture, whence  chiefly  arises  the  wonderful  elasticity  of  the 
figures.  All  this  is  unaccompanied  with  the  slightest  ex- 
aggeration ;  the  divisions  being  few,  and  masses  large, 
the  eye  runs  sweetly  along  the  general  forms,  yet  finds 
wherewithal  to  be  delighted  in  resting  upon  details.  This 
absence,  or  rather  this  unobtrusiveness,  of  all  pomp  of  art, 
throws  over  the  whole  an  air  of  reality  and  of  unsophisti- 
cated nature.  But  with  these  essential  qualities  of  merely 
imitative  art,  are  united  perfect  symmetry,  the  most  har- 
monious contours,  grand  composition,  the  most  refined 
taste,  and  noble  expression.  This  causes  every  figure  to 
respire  an  heroic  and  elevated  character.  Hence,  we  per- 
ceive, that  to  base  ideal  upon  imitative  art —  to  address  the 
imagination  by  grandeur  of  design  and  perfection  of  form, 
while  he  appealed  to  the  judgment  by  fidelity  of  detail  and 
correctness  of  resemblance  —  have  formed  the  objects  of 


60 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


this  great  sculptor.  The  relations  under  which  truth  and 
imagination  produce  results  at  once  grand  and  interesting, 
he  has  carefully  studied  and  successfully  rendered. 
Hence,  while  the  general  composition  breathes  the  loftiest 
spirit  of  ideal  or  possible  excellence,  the  means  by  which 
the  sentiment  is  rendered  are  received  from  individual 
nature,  expressed  simply,  and  without  artifice.  In  this 
happy  and  unobtrusive  union  of  nature  and  imagination, 
in  this  continually  remounting,  without  convention  or  os- 
tentation, to  the  eternal  sources  of  natural  truth  and  beau- 
ty, Phidias  displays  the  real  sublimity  of  art,  and  stands 
unrivalled  among  the  masters  of  the  ancient  world. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  progressive  change  in  sculpture,  from  a  style  of 
severe  and  simple  majesty,  to  one  of  more  studied  ele- 
gance and  softer  character,  already  noticed  as  having 
commenced  even  in  the  lifetime  of  Phidias,  received  its 
full  developement  under  those  masters  who  adorned  the 
beginning  of  the  Macedonian  empire.  Various  political 
and  moral  causes,  without  decline  of  talent,  might  have 
contributed  to  this  change,  which  is  not  even  so  great, 
while  it  corresponds  with,  the  contemporary  revolutions 
which,  from  similar  origin,  took  place  in  manners  and  lit- 
erature, in  the  opinions  and  usages  of  the  times.  The 
annals  of  no  nation,  also,  can  boast  a  distinguished  suc- 
cession of  names,  eminent  in  the  exercises  of  the  very 
highest  genius.    Sublimity  is,  in  its  own  nature,  a  more 


SCULPTURE. 


61 


simple  sentiment  than  beauty,  and  the  sources  whence  it 
springs  infinitely  more  limited.  If,  then,  we  find  the  true 
sublime  in  Grecian  sculpture  confined  to  almost  the  age 
and  the  labour  of  one  man,  is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  when 
the  same  is  the  case,  not  only  in  their  poetry,  an  art  far 
more  abundant  in  resources,  but  in  the  poetical  literature 
of  every  people  ?  The  sculptors,  then,  who  followed  the 
era  of  Pericles  to  the  death  of  Alexander,  can  be  called 
inferior  to  Phidias,  only  in  the  same  sense  as  the  poets 
who  succeeded  will  be  termed  inferior  to  Homer.  In  both 
instances,  the  change  was  but  the  application  of  prin- 
ciples which  in  their  essence  could  not  vary,  the  subjects 
requiring  a  modification  of  certain  distinguishing  quali- 
ties. 

But  an  opinion  opposite  to  this  is  more  commonly  enter- 
tained, namely,  that  not  till  the  improvements  of  Praxiteles 
and  Lysippus,  was  ancient  art  perfectly  free  from  the  rude 
and  harsh  of  that  early  taste.  A  glance,  however,  either 
to  the  Greek  historians,  or  especially  to  the  remaining 
labours  of  Phidias  himself,  is  more  than  sufficient  to  show 
how  utterly  without  foundation  is  this  censure ;  and  that 
no  other  man  has  united  in  his  style  more  of  the  highest 
excellences.  It  is,  in  fact,  this  union  which  truly  consti- 
tutes beauty  in  sculpture,  whose  sources  of  pleasing  and 
of  moving,  being  new,  and  derived  only  from  the  essen- 
tial elements  of  design,  form,  and  expression,  admit  of 
separation  or  imperfection  with  peculiar  disadvantage.  If 
we  examine  the  Elgin  Marbles  in  regard  to  those  qualities 
considered  as  especial  constituents  of  the  beautiful,  we 
shall  find  how  slight  indeed  could  be  succeeding  additions. 
More  seductive  grace,  an  air  more  elaborately  refined, 
may  have  been  given  to  the  female  statues  of  Praxiteles ; 
but  for  that  perfect  beauty,  which  arises  from  including 

6 


62 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  essentials  of  excellence  in  the  most  liberal  proportion, 
we  search  successfully  in  the  labours  of  Phidias  alone. 

The  views  now  taken  of  Grecian  sculpture,  in  which 
we  have  divided  the  subject  into  three  schools,  are  thus 
proved  to  be  correct.  Two  of  these  have  already  been 
examined ;  the  old  school,  which  brought  material  art 
almost  to  perfection,  retaining  only  a  degree  of  constraint, 
but  wanting  the  expression  of  mind ;  the  Phidian,  or  sub- 
lime school,  in  which  the  genius  of  art  soared  to  its  loftiest 
height.  The  third  is  now  to  be  considered,  which,  from 
the  prevailing  character  of  its  principal  works,  has  been 
rightly  termed  the  School  of  the  Beautiful. 

The  discussions  which  have  been  so  warmly  agitated 
regarding  the  true  era  of  this  school,  seem  entirely  gratu- 
itous. It  is  acknowledged,  that  the  greatest  masters  of 
whom  this  latter  age  could  boast,  were  Praxiteles  and  Ly- 
sippus,  contemporaries,  and  both  highly  esteemed  by 
Alexander  the  Great.  Coeval,  then,  with  the  commence- 
ment of  the  career,  and  during  the  brief  empire,  of  this 
prince,  is  to  be  placed  the  brightest  period  in  this  last  display 
of  the  arts  and  genius  of  Greece.  Many  external  circum- 
stances concurred,  with  the  encouragement  given  by  Alex- 
ander himself,  to  render  his  reign  propitious  to  refinement, 
science,  and  letters;  while  a  reaction  of  opposite  influen- 
ces, on  his  death,  closed  with  that  event  both  the  progress 
of  higher  improvement,  and  even  the  prospect  of  long  re- 
taing  the  knowledge  possessed.  In  sculpture,  particularly, 
a  visible  decay  of  talent,  and  a  neglect  of  the  exercise, 
soon  after  follow.  Indeed,  Pliny  decidedly  says,  that  art 
from  thenceforth  ceased,  —  deinde  cessavit  ars.  This  ex- 
pression must  be  understood  in  a  limited  sense ;  there  is 
no  doubt,  however,  that  the  causes  of  decline,  whose  con- 
sequences wealth,  the  complexion  and  renewed  energies 
of  the  times,  had  retarded,  were  then  recalled  into  more 
direct  activity. 


SCULPTURE. 


63 


Praxiteles,  born  about  the  104th  Olympiad,  or  364  B.  C, 
was  a  native  of  Magna  Grecia,  but  of  what  town  is  uncer- 
tain. From  preceding  remarks  it  will  appear,  that  in 
praising  him  as  an  original  inventor,  —  the  disoverer  of  a 
new  style,  writers  very  generally  have  mistaken  the  influ- 
ence exercised  by  his  genius  upon  the  progress  and  char- 
acter of  sculpture.  Finding  the  highest  sublimity  in  the 
more  masculine  graces  of  the  art  already  reached ;  per- 
ceiving, also,  that  the  taste  of  his  age  tended  thitherwards  ; 
he  resolved  to  woo  exclusively  the  milder  and  gentler 
beauties  of  style.  In  this  pursuit  he  attained  eminent 
success.  None  ever  more  happily  succeeded  in  uniting 
softness  with  force,  —  elegance  and  refinement  with  sim- 
plicity and  purity  ;  his  grace  never  degenerates  into  the 
affected,  nor  his  delicacy  into  the  artificial.  He  caught 
the  delightful  medium  between  the  stern  majesty  which 
awes,  and  the  beauty  which  merely  seduces,  —  between 
the  external  allurements  of  form,  and  the  colder,  but  loftier, 
charm  of  intellectuality.  Over  his  compositions  he  has 
thrown  an  expression  spiritual  at  once  and  sensual ;  a  vo- 
luptuousness and  modesty  which  touch  the  most  insensible, 
yet  startle  not  the  most  retiring. 

The  works  which  remain  of  this  master,  either  in  origi- 
nals or  in  repetitions,  —  the  Faun,  —  the  Thespian  Cupid, 
in  the  Museum  of  the  capitol,  —  the  Apollino  with  a  Liz- 
ard, one  of  the  most  beautiful,  as  well  as  difficult,  speci- 
mens of  antiquity,  abundantly  justify  this  character.  Of 
the  works  that  have  utterly  perished,  the  nude  and  draped, 
or  Coan  and  Gnidian  Venus  of  Praxiteles,  fixed  each  a 
standard  which  future  invention  dared  scarcely  to  alter. 
Indeed,  he  appears  to  have  been  the  first,  perhaps  the  sole 
master,  who  attained  the  true  ideal  on  this  subject,  in  the 
perfect  union  of  yielding  feminine  grace  with  the  dignity 


64 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


of  intellectual  expression.  The  Venus  of  Gnidos,  in  her 
representative  the  Medicean,  still  '  enchants  the  world,' 

—  and  fills 
The  air  around  with  beauty  :  we  inhale 
The  ambrosial  aspect,  which,  beheld,  instils 
Part  of  its  immortality  ;  the  veil 
Of  Heaven  is  half  withdrawn  ;  within  the  pale 
We  stand,  and  in  that  form  and  face  behold 
What  mind  can  make  when  nature's  self  would  fail. 

Lysippus  of  Sicyon  the  younger,  contemporary  and  rival 
of  the  preceding,  appears  to  have  wrought  only  in  metal. 
Accordingly,  in  comparing  him  with  Phidias,  Aristotle 
employs  distinctive  terms,  which  both  point  out  this  fact, 
and  would  alone  settle  the  needless  dispute,  whether  the 
latter  wrought  in  marble.  Of  the  610  works,  an  incredi- 
ble number,  ascribed  to  Lysippus,  not  one  survives  ;  for 
the  Venetian  horses  originally  brought  from  Chios,  by  The- 
odosius  the  younger,  to  Constantinople,  and  thence  re- 
moved to  St  Mark's  in  1204,  are  unworthy  of  the  artist's 
reputation.  The  bust  at  Portici  requires  also  to  be  authen- 
ticated, though  of  superior  merit.  Born  in  the  lowest 
walks  of  life,  Lysippus  was,  in  a  great  measure,  self- 
taught,  and  commenced  his  studies  where  the  art  itself 
had  begun,  —  with  nature.  Though  a  perfect  master  of 
beauty,  his  style  appears  to  have  been  distinguished  by  a 
more  masculine  character  than  that  of  the  age.  He  was 
emulous  of  reviving  the  grave  and  severe  grandeur  of  the 
preceding  school.  This  predilection  his  subjects  and  ma- 
terials would  cherish,  if  not  produce.  Colossal  and  eques- 
trian statues  of  warriors  in  bronze,  demanded  a  forceful 
and  vigorous  composition,  with  sober  and  dignified  expres- 
sion. The  Tarentine  Jupiter,  sixty  feet  high,  was  in  mag- 
nitude equal  to  any  undertaking  in  the  ancient  world ; 
and  twentyone  equestrian  statues  of  Alexander's  body- 


SCULPTURE. 


65 


guard,  who  fell  at  the  Granicus,  would  alone  have  sufficed 
for  the  labour  of  years  to  an  ordinary  artist.  But  not  only 
in  great  works  was  Lysippus  famous ;  many  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  delicate  description  are  recorded.  His  fin- 
ishing was  exquisite,  his  imitation  of  nature  faithful  '  as 
truth  itself,'  and  he  especially  excelled  in  the  knowledge 
of  symmetry.  He  was  so  great  a  favorite  with  Alexander, 
that  to  him  alone  permission  of  casting  the  prince's  statue 
was  granted ;  and  it  may  serve  to  prove  how  justly  this 
admiration  of  his  own  age  was  deserved,  that  centuries 
after,  even  the  monster  Tiberius  trembled  in  his  palace 
at  an  insurrection  of  the  Roman  people,  occasioned  by 
the  removal  from  one  of  the  public  baths  of  a  figure  by 
Lysippus. 

During  at  least  forty  years  from  the  death  of  Alexander, 
the  school  founded  and  presided  in  by  these  two  masters 
would  preserve  undiminished  the  beauty  of  the  art.  The 
latter  was  still  alive  on  the  death  of  the  Macedonian  prince, 
in  the  last  year  of  the  114th  Olympiad,  or  324  B.  C.  ; 
while  Praxiteles  survived  to  the  123d  Olympiad.  If,  again, 
we  consider  the  pupils  immediately  deriving  their  science 
from  these  great  men,  the  period  may  be  extended  during 
which  Greece  could  have  produced  sculptors  not  unwor- 
thy her  ancient  glory.  When  we  contemplate  also  her 
condition  in  other  respects,  never  had  she  exhibited  a  more 
numerous  or  a  more  imposing  assemblage  of  intellectual 
worthies.  Surely,  then,  the  death  of  a  despot  could  not 
have  wrought  so  fatal  and  so  immediate  a  decline  in  the 
means  and  faculties  of  human  genius.  No !  but  the  con- 
sequences of  that  event  destroyed  an  artificial  system,  and 
dried  up  factitious  streams  of  prosperity,  which  for  a  time 
had  supplied  or  concealed  the  absence  of  those  healthful 
and  constitutional  currents,  whence  was  circulated, 
throughout  the  whole  of  Greece,  the  very  life-blood  of  her 
6* 


66 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


glory  and  greatness.  Had  liberal  institutions  been  then 
restored ;  had  the  moral  vigour  of  her  better  days  reap- 
peared, even  amid  wars  and  revolutions  —  in  such  strug- 
gles they  had  been  reared  —  her  genius  and  taste,  her 
letters  and  arts,  would  have  survived.  These  were  innate 
in  the  constitution  of  her  free  states.  The  last,  in  parti- 
cular, formed  at  once  a  means  and  an  end  in  her  popular 
governments.  Springing  up  an  ornamental  blossom  amid 
the  sterner  and  the  nobler  fruits  of  liberty,  they  withered 
as  independence  decayed. 

We  would  not  be  understood  as  here  maintaining  a 
respectable  and  amiable,  but  unfounded  theory,  that  the 
fine  arts  have  never  flourished  except  under  popular  gov- 
ernments, nor  that  they  ceased  with  such  forms  in  Greece. 
In  this,  more  than  in  any  walk  of  genius,  is  the  active 
encouragement  of  the  supreme  power  indispensable  to 
excellence.  But  never  can  the  arts  of  taste  flourish  in 
true  grandeur,  where  patriotism  and  popular  feeling  are 
not  the  paramount,  or  at  least,  the  apparently  paramount, 
principles  of  the  times,  and  source  of  their  peculiar  culti- 
vation. The  arts  themselves  must  be  essentially  free ; 
they  must  likewise  derive  their  quickening  inspiration  from 
a  national  sentiment  of  interest  and  of  country.  Pisis- 
tratus  and  Pericles,  we  have  seen,  while  rulers  of  Athens, 
were  but  superintendents  of  the  arts,  in  their  application  to 
public  purposes,  in  unison  with  public  will,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  public  approval.  Even  Phidias  prepared  with 
trembling  anxiety  to  receive  the  award  of  merit  from  the 
voice  of  his  fellow-citizens ;  and  only  on  the  supposition 
that  they  were  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  a  close  inspection 
before  being  placed  in  their  destined  situation,  can  we 
account  for  the  exquisite  finish  of  the  Elgin  Marbles,  even 
in  parts  not  exposed  to  the  effects  of  climate.  Only  when 
the  purity  of  this  source  of  honor  was  contaminated,  did 


SCULPTURE. 


67 


art  fall,  never  to  rise  again.  Not  till  every  institution  be- 
longing to  the  republican  ages  of  Greece ;  not  till  every 
sentiment  of  a  generous  kind  had  been  trampled  upon  ; 
not  till  the  Olympic  games  ceased,  —  till  the  physical  edu- 
cation and  martial  exercises  of  the  youth  were  neglected, 
—  till  the  arts,  separated  from  national  polity,  became 
dependent  on  the  caprice  of  individuals,  —  till  there  was 
no  longer  public  spirit  nor  patriotic  feeling ;  not  till  all 
that  creates  and  endears  the  name  of  country  had  sunk 
beneath  a  foreign  yoke  or  domestic  thraldom,  did  Greece 
cease  to  produce  artists. 

Again,  the  period  of  this  decline  extends  through  nearly 
two  hundred  years,  from  the  dismemberment  of  the  Mace- 
donian empire,  to  the  final  reduction  of  Greece  into  a 
Roman  province.  This  space  of  time,  in  regard  to  the 
eras  of  Sculpture,  has  been  variously  and  too  minutely 
divided.  Each  favorable  turn  of  circumstances  enabling 
the  art  to  recover  a  little,  has  been  exalted  into  an  epoch. 
Into  these  details  it  needs  not  to  enter.  From  the  death 
of  Praxiteles,  or  at  least  in  the  school  of  his  own  and  the 
pupils  of  Lysippus,  as  Cephissodotus,  son  of  the  former, 
Tauriscus,  Eubolas,  Pamphilus,  Polyceutas,  Agasias,  and 
others,  it  does  not  appear  that  original  works  of  magnitude 
or  beauty  were  produced.  After  this  the  labours  of  ar- 
tists seem  to  have  been  confined  to  copies  of  the  works  of 
the  older  masters,  and  chiefly  to  making  repetitions  in 
marble  of  the  ancient  bronzes.  To  this  period  belong 
many  of  the  antique  marbles  now  remaining.  Pliny,  in- 
deed, though  not  with  strict  correctness,  considers  that 
Sculpture  lay  dormant  during  one  hundred  and  twenty 
years,  from  the  120th  to  the  150th  Olympiad.  The 
Achaean  league,  and  the  expiring  efforts  of  Greece  under 
the  last  of  her  heroes,  Aratus  and  Philopsemen,  inspired 
a  degree  of  vigour  into  her  intellectual  exertions.  Of 


68 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


these  warriors,  contemporary  statues  are  noticed  by  Pau- 
sanius;  and  the  latter  is  reported  to  have  excelled  in 
painting.  But  the  JEtolian  war  broke  for  ever  the  ties  of 
country,  and  the  sacredness  of  national  glory.  Temples 
were  therein  first  desecrated,  —  statues  and  paintings  de- 
faced in  Greece,  and  by  the  hands  of  Greeks.  If,  during 
the  same  era,  we  direct  our  attention  to  the  successors  of 
Alexander  in  Egypt  and  Asia,  we  find  letters  cultivated 
in  preference  to  art ;  or,  where  Sculpture  is  patronised,  as 
at  the  courts  of  the  Ptolemies  and  the  Seleucidoe,  the  cul- 
tivation of  a  taste  between  Grecian  and  barbarian  only 
hastened  the  progress  of  corruption.  One  bright  interval 
yet  arose  in  the  parent  seats  of  refinement,  upon  the  de- 
claration, by  the  Romans,  of  freedom  to  the  states  of 
Greece.  Sculpture,  for  more  than  thirty  years  of  apparent 
liberty  at  least,  and  of  real  repose,  was  exercised  with 
considerable  success  by  the  masters,  Antheus,  Callistratus, 
Polycles  Apollodorus,  Pasiteles,  and  others,  possessing 
considerable  merit,  though  far  below  the  genius  of  ancient 
times.  This  was  the  struggling  gleam  of  the  expiring 
taper  —  the  farewell  sweet  of  a  sun  about  to  set  forever. 
The  independence  of  Greece  endured  only  by  sufferance ; 
the  Achaean  league  was  dissolved,  and  Corinth  and  its  cap- 
itol  levelled  with  the  dust,  to  the  sound  of  Roman  trum- 
pets —  the  knell  of  freedom  and  of  the  arts  in  Greece. 


SCULPTURE, 


69 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  history  of  Sculpture  in  Italy  divides  into  two  dis- 
tinct, yet  connected,  subjects  of  inquiry,  embracing  two 
very  dissimilar  dynasties  —  the  Etruscan  and  the  Roman. 
Of  the  former  interesting  people  we  know  far  too  little 
commensurate  with  their  power,  and  the  influence  which 
they  appear  to  have  exercised  upon  the  spirit  and  progress 
of  ancient  art.  The  Thyrreneans,  or  Etruscans,  it  is 
certain,  possessed,  at  a  very  early  period,  the  empire  of 
almost  the  whole  Italian  peninsula,  and,  to  a  very  consid- 
erable extent,  whatever  of  refinement  existed  in  those 
primitive  times.  Respecting  the  origin  of  the  nation, 
however,  and  the  sources  of  this  intelligence,  authors  dis- 
agree ;  while  the  scanty  annals  that  have  reached  us, 
through  the  medium  of  the  Latins  and  Greeks,  enemies 
or  rivals,  leave  but  too  much  scope  for  unsettled  opinion. 
The  various  systems  here  may  be  arranged  under  two 
general  heads  ;  first,  that  the  Etruscans  were  of  Lydian 
extraction,  and  under  their  king,  Thyrrenus,  settled  in 
Italy  at  an  era  anterior  to  authentic  history :  or,  secondly, 
that  the  early  colonization  of  Etruria  was  owing  to  the 
wandering  tribes  from  Greece,  chiefly  of  the  Pelasgic 
race,  who  settled  at  different  times  prior  to  the  Trojan 
war.  Neither  of  these  opinions,  singly,  accords  with  con- 
temporary, nor  explains  subsequent  events  ;  combined, 
they  account  both  for  the  skill  attained  by  the  Etruscans 
in  the  arts  of  taste  and  civil  government,  while  Greece 
was  yet  in  a  state  of  pastoral  rudeness,  and  also  for  the 
subsequent  interweaving  into  their  history  of  Grecian 
fable  and  mythology.  We  enter  not  farther  into  this  dis- 
quisition, interesting  as  it  undoubtedly  is.  For  our  present 
purpose,  it  is  sufficient  to  bear  in  mind,  that  Sculpture  in 


70 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Etruria  had  attained  a  coeval,  if  not  a  prior,  degree  jof 
refinement  as  compared  with  Greece,  and  that  regard  to 
preserving  the  unity  of  the  subject  has  alone  occasioned 
the  precedence  in  time  given  to  the  arts  of  the  latter. 

The  remains  of  Etruscan  Sculpture  are  not  numerous, 
and  of  these  the  authenticity  of  some  may  justly  be  doubted. 
Taken  in  general,  the  works  of  national  art  consist  of 
medals  and  coins ;  statues  of  bronze  and  marble  ;  relievos  ; 
sculptured  gems;  engraved  bronzes;  and  paintings. 

The  first  class  is  the  most  numerous,  and  contains  many 
beautiful,  indeed,  for  those  early  ages,  wonderful  specimens. 
These  are  all  cast  of  a  compound  metal,  being  of  two 
kinds,  either  mythological  or  symbolical  in  their  represen- 
tations. Of  the  statues,  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  those 
in  marble  be  early  Greek  or  Etruscan  ;  the  smaller  ones 
in  bronze  are  more  authentic,  being  household  divinities, 
or  merely  ornaments  :  of  those  in  the  size  of  nature, 
scarcely  one  has  escaped  suspicion  of  its  true  age.  One 
or  two  exhibit  great  beauty.  Of  the  ancient  relievos 
found  in  various  parts  of  Italy,  several  are  admitted  to  be 
genuine  Etruscan;  and  here  there  can  be  little  hesitation, 
as  a  series  of  sepulchral  monuments,  sarcophagi,  and 
altars,  might  be  arranged  and  compared  throughout  the 
whole  period  of  Italian  history.  Gem  engraving  was 
brought  to  great  perfection  at  an  early  period  both  in 
Greece  and  Italy.  Of  this  minute  but  charming  art, 
probably  the  oldest  specimen  now  extant  represents  five 
of  the  seven  chiefs  who  fought  against  Thebes.  Of  this 
the  design  is  inartificial,  and  the  workmanship  rude  ;  other 
Etruscan  gems,  however,  or  scarabai,  from  their  resem- 
blance to  the  shape  of  a  beetle,  as  the  Tydeus  and  Pe- 
leus,  equal  the  most  exquisite  performances  in  this  branch. 
The  most  curious  and  numerous  remains  belong  to  the 
class  of  engraved  bronzes,  or  patera?,  small  vessels  used 


SCULPTURE. 


71 


in  sacrificing,  circular,  and,  in  the  single  instance  of  the 
Etruscan,  with  a  handle.  On  the  bottom,  inside,  which 
is  perfectly  flat,  being  merely  a  plate  surrounded  with  a 
shallow  brim,  there  is  usually  engraved  some  mythological 
subject,  of  simple  design,  expressed  in  few,  bold,  firm, 
and  deep  lines. 

In  the  style  of  these  remains,  three  distinct  eras  of  art 
among  the  Etruscans  may  be  discerned.  The  first,  or 
ancient  style,  commences  with  the  earliest  notices  of  the 
people.  It  has  been  confounded  with  the  Egyptian  and 
the  Grecian  ;  but  the  similarity  is  not  greater  than  charac- 
terises the  infancy  of  invention  among  every  people.  And 
though,  apart,  it  might  be  difficult  to  discern  their  national 
or  original  elements,  considered  in  connexion  with  the 
style  of  the  following  era,  their  distinctive  character  be- 
comes apparent,  of  an  unfettered  imagination,  essaying 
its  feeble  powers  by  no  systematic,  no  conventional  repre- 
sentation, arising,  as  in  Egypt,  from  an  impulse  foreign  to 
art ;  while,  from  Greek  sculpture  of  the  same  age,  we 
clearly  distinguish  the  rudiments  of  new  modes,  and  cer- 
tain specialities  in  the  relations  between  fancy  and  feeling 
with  nature.  The  vigorous  imagination,  the  bold  forms 
and  general  tendency  to  exaggeration,  which  may  be 
traced  even  in  its  infancy,  display  in  its  perfection,  during 
the  second  epoch,  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  Etruscan 
sculpture.  In  the  works  of  this  age,  there  is  strength, 
and  massiveness,  and  power ;  but  they  want  delicacy  of 
proportion,  discrimination  of  character,  and  graceful  sim- 
plicity. The  third  epoch  embraces  that  period  which 
beheld  the  gradual  disappearance  of  the  Tuscans  as  an 
independent  state  from  the  face  of  Italy.  Their  political 
empire  was  ingulfed  in  the  extending  dominion  of  Rome : 
the  discriminative  character  of  their  genius  merged  in 
the  arts  of  the  colonial  Greeks;  when,  as  we  have  already 


72 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


seen,  the  schools  of  Rhegium  and  Crotona  sent  forth  mas- 
ters equal,  if  not  superior,  to  those  of  Greece. 

These  eras,  in  date  and  duration,  nearly  coincide  with 
as  many  revolutions  in  the  political  history  of  the  nation. 
Their  greatest  extent  of  territory  was  held  but  for  a  short 
time,  being  quickly  reduced  on  the  south  by  settlements 
of  the  Dorian  colonies,  and  on  the  north  by  the  Gauls  and 
Ligurians.  It  was  only  during  their  diminished,  but 
secure  and  admirably  constituted  empire  in  Etruria  Proper, 
that  their  national  arts  flourished,  and  their  national  style 
was  formed.  Each  of  twelve  allied,  but  separately  indepen- 
dent capitals,  then  became  a  school  of  art,  the  friendly  rival 
of  her  compeers  — each  exciting  the  industry,  and  directing 
the  advance,  of  the  other — each  the  Athens  of  ancient  Italy. 
Inflamed  by  the  brutal  spirit  of  mere  conquest,  the  Romans 
broke  in  upon  this  tranquillity  ;  and  though,  at  first,  science 
proved  more  than  a  match  for  force,  Etruria,  with  her 
free  institutions,  her  elective  magistracy,  her  solemn  insig- 
nia, fell  beneath  their  rude  despotism. 

Thus  terminated,  480  years  from  the  building  of  Rome, 
the  only  native  school  of  art  in  Italy  ;  and  that  here  sculp- 
ture had  been  cultivated  with  no  ordinary  ardour,  is  at- 
tested by  the  fact  of  the  Romans  having  carried  off  from 
Volsinum  alone  no  fewer  than  two  thousand  statues.  Even 
for  some  time  after  the  subjugation  of  the  Etruscan  repub- 
lics, sculpture  was  practised ;  but  it  soon  lost  all  national 
character.  The  Roman  dominion  embracing  the  circuit 
of  Italy,  the  Tuscan  freeman  and  the  Greek  colonist  be- 
came alike  its  vassal ;  but  their  common  masters  fostered 
not  the  arts  as  native  ornaments  —  as  moral  causes  in  their 
empire :  they  possessed  merely  sufficient  knowledge  to 
value  the  fruits  of  genius  as  the  harvest  of  conquest. 
The  same  spirit  actuated  their  subsequent  conduct,  when 
their  victorious  armies  came  in  successive  contact  with 


SCULPTURE. 


73 


the  richer  treasures  of  Sicily,  and  of  Greece  herself.  Mar- 
cellus  plundered  Syracuse  of  her  marble  population,  as  a 
proof  that  he  had  subdued  her  living  inhabitants ;  and, 
from  a  still  more  sordid  motive,  in  which  ignorance  and 
avarice  are  disgustingly  blended,  Mummius  first  began 
the  work  of  devastation  in  Greece.  A  picture  of  Bac- 
chus, which  the  Corinthians,  on  account  of  its  super-ex- 
cellence, were  anxious  to  regain  from  the  soldiers,  who  were 
using  it  as  a  table,  is  said  first  to  have  excited  his  cupid- 
ity. From  the  vast  sum  offered,  the  Roman  general  con- 
ceived the  picture  contained  gold,  which  he  might  perhaps 
discover  when  more  at  leisure ;  accordingly  he  delivered 
it  to  a  common  messenger,  with  this  sage  menace,  that  he 
was  to  carry  it  safely  to  Rome,  under  pain  of  being  obliged 
to  paint  one  equally  good  !  Such  was  the  state  of  early 
republican  taste,  quite  in  keeping  with  the  national  arts, 
sufficiently  characterised  by  Tibullus,  when  he  says : 

'  In  paltry  temple  stood  the  wooden  god.' 

Or  by  the  opposition  of  Cato  to  the  introduction  of  Greek 
statuary,  on  the  plea,  that  its  divine  forms  would  expose  to 
ridicule  the  rude  fashioning  of  the  Roman  deities. 

During  the  latter  period  of  the  commonwealth,  attempts 
were  successively  made  by  Sylla,  Pompey,  and  Caesar,  to 
domiciliate  the  arts  in  Rome.  Their  efforts,  however, 
reached  no  farther  than  collecting  in  that  capital  the 
sculptors  of  Greece,  —  thus  doubly  unfortunate,  as  the 
place  whence  were  torn  the  plundered  ornaments  of  tem- 
ples and  palaces,  and  as  the  nurse  of  that  science  which, 
in  busts  and  statues,  was  to  immortalize  the  lineaments  of 
her  enslavers.  The  patronage  of  Augustus,  who  could 
wield  for  his  purposes  the  energies  of  the  whole  enlight- 
ened world,  necessarily  proved  highly  advantageous  to  art, 
which  he  affected  to  cultivate  from  patriotic  and  intellec- 
7 


74 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


tuaJ,  but  really  from  those  still  stronger  political  motives. 
But  of  all  the  sculptors  of  the  Augustan  age  whose  names 
have  reached  us,  every  one  is  Greek,  and  chiefly  Athe- 
nian. Pasiteles,  Arcesilaus,  Zopirus,  and  Evander,  were 
the  most  eminent.  The  arts,  indeed,  were  revived ;  but 
the  creative  spirit  which  infuses  life  and  soul  into  their 
productions,  which  stamps  them  with  originality  and 
thought,  could  not  be  recalled.  The  character  of  design 
and  of  execution  is  evidently  the  same  as  that  by  which 
the  last  era  of  sculpture  in  Greece  is  distinguished,  or 
rather  it  is  superior ;  for  settled  government,  ample  re- 
ward, and  certain  honor,  not  only  drew  to  Rome  every 
man  of  talent,  but  also  awakened  new  powers.  But  in 
the  finest  specimens,  there  is  no  evidence  of  new  ener- 
gies, added  by  the  union  of  two  separate  modifications  of 
talent ;  nor  in  the  inferior,  any  exhibition  of  the  more 
original,  though  it  might  be  ruder,  efforts  of  an  aspiring 
and  distinct  national  taste.  Either  or  both  of  these  effects 
would  have  been  apparent,  had  there  been  native,  prior 
to  this  importation  of  Greek  artists.  On  the  contrary, 
everything  in  the  sculpture  of  this  era  discovers  a  descent 
from  a  state  of  higher  excellence ;  every  touch  exhibits 
rather  what  has  been,  than  presages  the  eminence  for 
which  we  are  to  draw  upon  futurity.  From  Augustus  to 
Trajan,  during  a  period  of  140  years,  the  principles  and 
practice  of  the  Greeks  continue  to  be  observed,  with  such 
difference  only  as  political  causes  can  easily  reconcile, 
but  with  a  progressive  decay.  The  most  favorable  periods 
during  this  space  were  the  reigns  of  Vespasian,  Titus, 
and  Trajan ;  for  the  reign  of  Nero,  whose  taste,  like  his 
morals,  was  corrupt,  which  Pliny  has  assumed  as  an  epoch 
in  the  Roman  school,  was  propitious  to  practice,  not  to 
improvement. 


SCULPTURE. 


75 


With  the  reign  of  Hadrian,  in  the  seventeenth  year  of 
the  second  century,  is  introduced  a  new  style  of  sculpture, 
which  may  properly  be  termed  Roman.  Here  the  distin- 
guishing characteristic  is  extreme  minuteness  of  finish, 
indicating  the  labour  more  of  the  hand  than  the  mind. 
The  chisel,  the  file,  the  drill,  have  been  plied  with  cease- 
less care,  and  great  mechanical  dexterity.  Over  the  whole 
genius  and  spirit  of  the  art,  is  now  diffused  an  air  of 
studied  and  even  affected  refinement,  which  smooths  away 
every  characteristic  and  natural  expression.  For  the  sub- 
lime is  substituted  the  difficult,  the  florid  for  the  elegant ; 
and  in  every  remaining  specimen,  we  can  readily  detect 
the  taste  which  preferred  a  poetaster  to  Homer,  or  the 
laboured  inanities  of  the  sophists  to  the  vigorous  and  manly 
eloquence  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero. 

The  reign  of  the  Antonines  forms  the  last  lucid  interval 
in  the  arts  of  the  ancient  world.  The  decline  of  sculpture 
from  thence  to  the  reign  of  Constantine  would  be  almost 
incredibly  rapid,  were  we  not  enabled  to  trace  its  progress 
in  the  monuments  that  yet  remain.  Beyond  Constantine  it 
would  not  be  difficult,  but  it  would  be  useless,  to  carry 
our  inquiries.  When  an  imperial  master  of  the  world  is 
found  pilfering,  from  the  monument  of  a  virtuous  prede- 
cessor, a  few  ornaments  to  deck  the  record  of  his  own 
triumphs,  and  which  the  whole  ingenuity  of  the  Roman 
world  could  not  supply,  the  annals  of  ancient  taste  may 
be  closed. 

Sculpture,  it  thus  appears  —  and  the  remark  is  true  of 
all  the  arts  —  was  never  cultivated  in  Rome  as  a  native 
acquirement,  as  an  integral  element  in  national  history. 
As  political  causes,  too,  the  arts  scarcely  operated,  except 
merely  in  connexion  with  public  monuments,  which  were 
treated  more  as  matters  of  business  than  of  sentiment  ; 
where  the  successful  execution  brought  no  accession  of 


76 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


moral  dignity  to  the  artist,  and  where  the  modes  long 
formed  were  adopted  with  no  change,  save  that  arising 
from  decaying  capabilities.  Of  all  the  nations,  indeed, 
who  have  held  supremacy  upon  the  earth,  the  Romans 
show  the  poorest  claims  to  originality  ;  and  have  least  im- 
pressed the  future  fortunes  of  the  human  mind  by  any 
bold  peculiaiities  or  successful  darings  of  her  own  genius. 
In  letters  and  in  the  arts,  they  have  bequeathed  to  pos- 
terity only  modifications  of  the  exquisite  inventions  of 
Greece.  In  letters,  indeed,  they  have  improved  upon 
their  borrowings,  because  in  some  instances  they  have  im- 
parted the  stamp  of  nationality;  —  not  so  in  the  fine  arts. 
Yet  even  in  the  former,  the  improvement  extends  only  to 
the  manner ;  the  material  remains  with  little  alteration, 
and  no  addition.  The  character  of  Roman  talent  — 
manly  and  persevering,  though  not  inventive  —  seemed 
well  adapted  to  succeed  in  sculpture,  laborious  in  its  prac- 
tice, in  its  principles  grave  and  simple.  Three  causes 
chiefly  opposed  this  success.  The  Romans  regarded  the 
art  as  the  peculiar  eminence  of  a  conquered  people. 
Hence  they  cherished  no  genuine  enthusiasm  for  its  excel- 
lences, and  no  real  respect  for  its  professors  —  among 
them  the  fallen  Greeks  or  manumitted  slaves.  Secondly, 
Their  national  manners  were  inclined,  while  their  spirit 
burned  in  its  best  energies,  more  to  action  and  business 
than  to  elegant  accomplishment.  As  a  more  particular 
obstacle,  growing  out  of  this  general  cause,  the  desire 
constantly  affected  of  being  represented  in  armour,  most 
materially  operated  against  the  improvement  of  sculpture  ; 
and  by  shutting  up  the  warm  and  breathing  forms  of  na- 
ture, gave  at  once  origin  and  inveteracy  to  the  evils  of 
harshness  and  incorrectness,  in  the  early  school,  and  in 
the  latter,  to  finical  and  ineffective  laboriousness.  Thirdly, 
The  superlative  beauty  of  the  finest  labours  of  Greece, 


SCULPTURE. 


77 


scattered  with  amazing  profusion  throughout  Italy,  ren- 
dered their  possessors  indifferent  to  contemporary  and  so 
conspicuously  inferior  works. 

To  this  last  circumstance,  however,  is  principally  to  be 
ascribed  the  only  excellence  to  which  Roman  sculpture 
can  justly  lay  claim,  as  it  proved  mainly  instrumental  in 
directing  attention  to  that  particular  department.  The 
busts  of  the  Roman  school,  from  Julius  to  Gallienus,  em- 
bracing a  period  of  three  centuries,  exhibit  a  series  inval- 
uable in  the  history  of  art,  and  in  some  instances  capable 
of  being  compared  with  the  best  of  similar  works  of  the 
first  ages,  without  suffering  by  the  contrast.  These  do 
not,  indeed,  equal  in  heroic  character  one  or  two  remains 
of  Greece,  but  they  exhibit  a  more  powerful  representa- 
tion of  individual  mental  resemblance.  The  soul  of  his- 
tory absolutely  seems  to  inhabit  and  to  breathe  from  the 
marble.  Into  every  movement  of  the  countenance  is  in- 
fused an  expression  so  speaking,  so  characteristic,  so  full 
of  individuality,  that  we  seem  to  have  set  before  us  the 
very  actor  in  those  deeds  which  have  formed  our  most  se- 
rious studies.  But  this  high  perfection  applies  only  to  the 
termination  of  the  commonwealth,  or  does  not  extend 
beyond  the  reign  of  Augustus.  As  we  advance,  the  im- 
press of  grandeur  of  thought,  and  energy  of  purpose, 
becomes  obscured.  This  in  part  is  no  doul\t  owing  to  the 
decline  of  power  to  represent ;  but  the  decay  of  internal 
nobleness  in  the  subject  appears  to  have  at  least  kept  pace 
with  the  fall  of  material  art ;  and,  in  the  words  of  Pliny, 
when  there  were  no  longer  images  of  mind,  the  lineaments 
of  form  also  degenerated. 

From  a  careful  examination  of  the  imperial  busts,  — 
for  the  jealous  fears  of  these  tyrants  soon  forbade  any  others 
torbe  sculptured  —  we  derive  our  best  knowledge  of  the 
Roman  school.  The  style  of  design  during  the  first,  or 
7* 


78 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


republican  age,  is  distinguished  by  squareness  and  vigour 
in  the  forms  —  decision  of  arrangement  —  boldness  and 
firmness  in  pronouncing  the  parts,  accompanied  with  truth 
and  great  force  of  general  effect,  but  destitute  of  minute- 
ness and  accuracy  in  the  details.  The  mastery  of  touch, 
indeed,  is  frequently  so  daring,  as  to  be  redeemed  from 
the  imputation  of  careless  and  unfinished  only  by  the 
vigorous  meaning  of  every  stroke.  We  detect  the  great- 
est deficiency  in  those  passing  lines  of  thought  and  form, 
where  little  meets  the  outward  sense,  but  in  which  the 
science  and  feeling  of  the  artists  are  most  surely  displayed 
and  most  severely  tried ;  the  expression  of  the  eyes  are 
studied,  and  the  eye-ball,  with  intent  to  produce  an  impo- 
sing look,  is  made  larger  than  in  nature.  The  hair, 
though  skilfully  massed,  and  fine  in  distant  effect,  is  par- 
ticularly heavy ;  indeed,  the  characteristic  defect  is  harsh- 
ness —  an  absence  of  those  sweet  and  flowing  lines  which 
bring  the  contour  fully,  but  graciously,  upon  the  view. 
To  the  close  of  the  first  century,  bold  and  facile  execu- 
tion, and  force  of  effect,  continue  to  take  place  of  simple 
and  accurate  design  and  natural  expression  —  faults  most 
conspicuous  in  the  most  prosperous  time,  the  reigns  of 
Titus  and  Trajan,  from  the  art  being  exercised  chiefly  on 
architectural  designs.  In  addition  to  the  dry,  the  hard, 
and  laboured,  the  era  of  Hadrian  is  further  distinguished 
by  the  pupil  of  the  eye  having  a  deeply  drilled  orifice, 
and  by  the  separate  parts  of  the  countenance  being  marked 
with  an  affected  and  unriatural  depth.  The  busts  of  Au- 
relius  are  the  last  good  examples.  Under  Severus  appears 
a  singular  affectation  of  marking  the  forehead,  and  even 
the  whole  countenance,  with  furrows.  Subsequently  every 
reign  displays  more  decided  retrogression,  and  the  final 
disappearance  of  every  redeeming  excellence. 


SCULPTURE. 


79 


CHAPTER  VI. 


With  the  dawn  of  liberty  in  the  republican  cities  of 
Italy,  we  hail  the  reappearance  of  the  arts.  Before  the 
close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  Pisa,  with  the  neighboring 
cities  of  Etrnria,  the  ancient  seats  of  elegance,  had  already 
made  progress  in  sculpture.  The  founder  of  this,  the 
primitive  school  of  modern  Europe,  was  Nicolo  Pisano. 
The  works  of  this  master,  and  those  of  his  scholars,  still 
remaining  in  his  native  city,  in  Sienna,  Arezzo,  Pistoia, 
Orvietto,  and  Lucca,  induce  a  very  high  opinion  indeed 
of  the  progress  of  the  age.  In  the  succeeding  century, 
the  art  was  carried  by  his  grandson,  Andrea,  to  Florence, 
the  future  head  and  fountain  of  art.  Here,  in  1350,  was 
established  the  first  academy  of  design  ;  and  before  the 
close  of  the  century,  sculpture  was  firmly  established,  and 
far  from  unskilfully  practised,  throughout  a  considerable 
portion  of  Italy.  Nor  was  this  the  limit  of  the  influence, 
though,  as  upon  its  centre,  the  eye  of  history  is  fixed 
chiefly  here.  Fraternities  of  itinerant  sculptors  carried 
their  art  over  Germany  and  France  ;  and  even  in  England 
the  works  of  this  early  school  have  been  traced.  In  these 
countries  the  numerous  Gothic  edifices,  with  their  sculp- 
tured ornaments,  furnished  rich  occasions  for  the  exercise 
of  the  art ;  but  from  this  very  circumstance  it  ceased,  in  a 
certain  degree,  to  be  regarded  as  independent  of  archi- 
tecture. In  Italy,  private  excellence  was  better  preserved, 
and  is  easily  traced.  But  it  was  union  with  the  grand 
moral  and  political  principles  of  free  constitutions,  that 
in  Italy  at  once  gave  dignity  to,  and  cherished  the  pro- 
gress of,  the  arts.  In  the  ancient  world  we  bade  a  com- 
mon farewell  to  freedom  and  to  genius,  nay,  virtue  at  the 


80 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


same  time  would  have  winged  her  flight,  had  she  not  found 
an  asylum  on  earth  in  the  bosom  of  Christianity.  Upon 
the  ages  now  passing  in  review,  when  Freedom  again 
rises,  we  behold  genius  also  revive,  as  if  the  sweeter  sen- 
sibilities and  the  manlier  virtues  had  together  slumbered 
through  the  long  long  night  of  ignorance  and  of  despo- 
tism. It  is  thus  that  spring,  breathing  on  bank  and  wild 
wood,  unchains  the  bud  and  the  blossom  from  the  tender- 
est  floweret  to  the  hardy  oak. 

In  the  progress  of  intelligence,  the  fifteenth  century 
constitutes  a  splendid  era.  Advances  were  then  accom- 
plished in  moral,  intellectual,  and  political  knowledge, 
which  form  the  ground  work  of  no  inconsiderable  portion 
of  modern  science.  In  the  arts  of  elegance,  especially 
in  sculpture,  the  labours  of  this  age  will  always  hold  dis- 
tinguished rank.  In  the  first  year  of  the  century,  we 
find  six  great  masters  —  competitors  for  the  same  public 
work  —  the  bronze  folding-doors  of  the  baptistry  at  Flo- 
lence :  Brunelleschi  and  Ghiberti,  Florentines ;  Jacomo 
della  Quercia  of  Sienna ;  Nicolo  Lamberti  of  Arezzo : 
Francisco  di  Valdambrino,  and  Simon  dei  Colle,  Tus- 
cans. The  competitors  each  afterwards  became  the  head 
of  a  flourishing  school.  Ghiberti,  a  youth  of  twentythree, 
was  the  successful  candidate ;  and  the  work  thus  assigned 
to  his  superior  merit,  occupied  forty  years  of  his  future 
life,  remaining  still  one  of  the  proudest  triumphs  of  modern 
talent.  The  subjects  are  upon  panels  in  relievo,  repre- 
senting historical  passages  from  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments, and  the  same  which  were  afterwards  declared  wor- 
thy the  gates  of  Paradise. 

This  era  may  be  styled  the  commonwealth  of  sculp- 
ture :  no  single  master  so  far  excelling  his  compeers  as  to 
impress  upon  the  art  the  stamp  and  bearing  of  one  indi- 
vidual style.    But  among  this  crowd  of  illustrious  contem- 


SCULPTURE. 


81 


poraries,  Donatello,  born  in  1383,  and  already  an  eminent 
artist  at  the  age  of  twenty,  stands  forth  pre-eminently 
conspicuous  by  the  magnitude  and  excellence  of  his  own 
labours,  as  also  by  the  number  and  merits  of  his  pupils. 
His  performances,  in  almost  every  variety  of  material,  are 
scattered  over  all  Italy ;  the  best  are  in  Florence,  but  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Erasmus,  Duke  of  Narni,  in  that 
city,  merits  attention  as  the  first  attempt  of  such  magni- 
tude in  the  revival  of  art. 

The  numerous  scholars  of  Donatello  may  be  divided 
into  two  classes.  The  first  comprehends  those  who,  with- 
out producing  much  of  their  own,  have  attained  reputa- 
tion as  fellow-labourers  in  the  most  considerable  undertak- 
ings of  their  master.  The  legitimate  disciples  of  Dona- 
tello, however,  consists  of  those  who,  without  servilely 
following  in  the  train  of  their  instructer,  preserved,  or  even 
in  some  respects  improved,  the  science  derived  from  his 
precepts.  These  include  most  of  the  leading  masters  of 
the  latter  part  of  the  century,  for  in  every  town  of  impor- 
tance he  had  left  works  and  planted  a  school.  After  the 
demise  of  Ghiberti  in  1455,  and  of  Donatello  in  1466,  the 
art  was  far  from  languishing  in  the  hands  of  their  suc- 
cessors, and  especially  under  Andrea  du  Verrochio,  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  century.  In  the  academy  founded 
by  the  Medici,  many  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  next 
century  are  to  be  found,  as  yet  youthful  though  not  undis- 
tinguished pupils. 

In  reviewing  the  ages  which  have  been  made  to  pass 
before  us  in  their  leading  characters,  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries,  we  perceive,  may  be  termed  the  in- 
fancy of  sculpture;  with  the  fifteenth  begins  its  manhood, 
while  in  some  respects  full  vigour  was  attained  even  at  the 
close  of  this  period.  During  the  two  preceding  centuries, 
we  find  views  frequently  derived  from  the  antique,  of 


82 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


which  many  specimens  were  brought  directly  from  the 
East  to  Pisa.  A  character  of  truth  and  simplicity,  faith- 
ful imitation  of  nature,  and  just  expression,  visibly  begin 
from  the  time  of  Nicolo,  whose  own  style  indeed  is  remark- 
able for  sweetness  and  absence  of  all  pretension.  The 
effect  is  never  daringly  ventured,  but  is  sought  to  be  dis- 
covered by  patient  reiteration  of  effort  and  persevering 
imitation.  At  first,  therefore,  no  acknowledged  princi- 
ples of  taste  or  of  composition  can  be  perceived  ;  a  degree 
of  restraint  and  meagreness  consequently  long  pervade 
the  early  labours  of  sculpture.  But  if  in  these  the  crea- 
tive faculties  have  seldom  been  conspicuously  exerted ;  if 
the  fancy  be  rarely  excited  by  novelty  or  variety  of  inven- 
tion, the  heart,  even  in  the  sculpture  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  is  often  awakened  to  deep  feeling  by  unexpected 
beauties  of  the  sweetest  power,  arising  from  a  diligent 
imitation  of  nature.  The  art  being  chiefly  dedicated  to  devo- 
tion, and  to  the  memory  of  departed  virtue,  an  air  of  digni- 
fied sincerity,  a  touching  portraiture  of  the  gentler  affec- 
tions, diffuse  over  the  mind  of  the  spectator  a  melancholy 
yet  pleasing  serenity,  to  be  felt  rather  than  described  * — 
which  give  back  the  images  of  our  own  sensibilities  in  all 
their  simple,  unpretending  reality.  The  succeeding  age 
assumes  a  style  and  character  .more  elevated,  without  be- 
ing less  true.  The  simplicity  is  refined  —  equally  removed 
from  affectation  as  from  poverty  —  the  skill  of  hand  great, 
the  execution  bold  and  felicitous  ;  yet  still  exercised  as  a 
means,  never  as  an  instrument  to  astonish  or  surprise. 
Nature  is  imitated  faithfully,  under  the  least  remote  ap- 
pearances, and  by  the  simplest  expression — the  manner 
never  allures  from  the  subject.  The  great  proportion  of 
the  sculpture  of  this  century  being  in  bronze,  may  ac- 
count for  a  style  of  execution  in  some  respects  harsh,  with 
a  degree  of  restraint,  and  occasionally  defective  in  energy. 


SCULPTURE. 


83 


As  respects  intellectual  merits,  the  design  is  always  chaste, 
often  extremely  elegant;  the  composition  judicious,  sel- 
dom contrasted  or  grouped  artificially.  The  expression  is 
sweet  and  calmly  dignified,  for  rarely  is  strongly  marked 
passion  attempted.  No  decided  aims  at  representation  of 
abstract  or  ideal  beauty  can  be  observed  ;  the  powers  of 
fancy  are  never  presumed  upon  —  seldom  roused  by  re- 
mote associations.  But  the  mind  of  the  artist,  now  no 
longer  entirely  engrossed  in  mechanical  detail,  or  confined 
by  difficulties  of  mere  representation,  expatiates,  selects, 
combines  ;  if  the  forms  and  conceptions  are  not  invested 
with  the  sublimity  of  ideal  elevation,  the  beautiful  models 
of  real  existence  are  imitated  not  unsuccessfully.  Were 
the  extent  and  object  of  art  confined  to  simple  imitation, 
the  aim  of  the  sculptor  would  now  nearly  be  attained. 
Yet,  judging  even  by  the  principles  of  the  most  refined 
criticism,  one  department,  during  the  fifteenth  century, 
acquired  a  perfection  which  has  not  been  surpassed,  rarely 
equalled,  in  succeeding  times.  Donatello  and  Ghiberti, 
the  former  in  high,  the  latter  in  low  relief,  have  left  mod- 
els which  it  does  not  easily  appear  possible  to  excel.  The 
best  of  these  are  Donatello's,  in  the  church  of  San  Loren- 
zo, representing  the  most  memorable  events  in  the  life  of 
the  Saviour  ;  and  Ghiberti's,  already  noticed,  on  the  gates 
of  the  baptistry  at  Florence.  The  subjects  seem  to  have 
imparted  to  the  genius  of  the  sculptors  a  portion  of  their 
own  sacred  dignity,  and  calm  and  holy  feeling.  Indeed, 
to  the  influence  of  religious  impressions,  we  attribute,  to 
a  great  degree,  the  improvement  of  sculpture  during  this 
age,  the  principal  undertakings  being  from  Scripture. 


84 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Notwithstanding  the  very  considerable  attainments 
already  exhibited,  to  the  perfection  of  Sculpture,  there 
yet  wanted  greater  ease  and  grace  of  execution,  more  per- 
fect and  elevated  expression,  more  refined  selection  of  form 
and  composition,  —  more,  in  short,  of  that  heightening 
charm  which  fancy  lends  to  reality  —  of  that  which  con- 
stitutes the  poetry,  not  the  fiction,  of  art.  The  first  blush 
of  the  times,  too,  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  seemed  to  promise  a  most  propitious  era  for  the 
accomplishment  of  these  remaining  improvements.  In 
Italy,  yet  the  only  fixed  and  native  seat  of  art,  a  spirit  of 
refinement  and  love  of  elegance,  a  high  and  general  res- 
pect for  art,  pervaded  all  ranks.  Universal  activity,  also, 
and  energy  of  character,  growing  out  of  the  conscious 
dignity  of  independence,  animated  the  republican  cities. 
Each  vied  with  its  neighbour  in  the  splendour  of  public 
buildings,  and  in  munificence  of  patronage.  Florence, 
indeed,  from  her  peculiar  advantages  and  superior  opu- 
lence, sooner  distanced  rivalry  ;  but  her  schools  were  open 
to  all,  and  her  Medici,  the  most  enlightened  of  patrons, 
were  as  yet  but  merchants  and  simple  citizens.  In  those 
states,  too,  where  free  and  popular  government  was  not 
established,  kings  and  princes  affected  to  love  and  encou- 
rage the  arts.  Literature,  in  most  of  the  countries  of 
Europe,  had  spread  its  lights  around  ;  the  ancient  models 
of  eloquence  were  known,  at  least  in  their  precepts,  to  all 
who  laboured  in  the  fields  of  genius  ;  and  even  in  sculp- 
ture, some  of  the  most  breathing  fragments  had  been,  or 
in  the  course  of  the  century,  were  restored  to  day.  The 
stir  of  spirit  had  penetrated  even  the  recesses  of  papal 


SCULPTURE. 


85 


domination  and  priestly  ease.  Means  of  empire  were 
now  to  be  essayed  more  congenial  to  the  complexion  of 
the  times,  and  to  the  minds  of  men,  than  spiritual  wea- 
pons, unhallowed  in  every  church,  because  unscriptural, 
or  than — more  unjustifiable  still,  when  wielded  by  min- 
isters of  peace  —  secular  arms.  Rome  was  to  be  rendered 
the  home  and  habitation  of  art,  as  of  religion.  She  was 
to  contain  a  temple  vainly  hoped  to  become  the  Zion  of 
the  Christian  world.  All  these  causes,  favorable  as  they 
were  to  general  developement  of  talent,  tended  with  a 
peculiar  energy  to  the  advancement  of  sculpture,  in  which, 
with  the  exception  of  poetry,  the  greatest  progress  had  yet 
been  accomplished  since  the  revival  of  intelligence.  The 
path,  too,  which  had  here  been  pursued,  led  directly  to 
excellence.  Nothing  was  to  be  unlearned.  The  era  bore 
a  striking  resemblance  in  its  leading  features  to  that  of 
Pericles  ;  there  was  wanting  only  a  Phidias  to  realize  its 
expectancy  ;  and  in  Michael  Angelo,  the  genius  of  Greece 
seemed  to  be  supplied. 

For  three  fourths  of  the  sixteenth  century,  this  extra- 
ordinary man  presided  in  the  schools,  and  by  his  style 
influenced  much  longer  the  principles  of  modern  art.  To 
him,  therefore,  during  the  most  brilliant  period  in  the 
annals  which  we  are  now  feebly  endeavoring  to  trace,  is 
the  attention  chiefly  directed.  Nor  only  in  one  point  of 
view,  is  his  genius  to  be  contemplated.  He  has  extended 
the  grasp  of  a  mighty  though  irregular  spirit  over  our 
whole  subject.  Sculptor  of  the  Moses,  painter  of  the 
Last  Judgment,  architect  of  the  Cupola  —  we  behold  in 
him  the  greatest  of  the  works  of  art.  It  is  this,  more  than 
any  other  circumstance,  which  has  invested  the  character 
of  his  genius  with  a  species  of  awful  supremacy  not  to  be 
inquired  into ;  discrimination  is  lost  in  general  admira- 
tion ;  and  to  him  who  thus  seems  to  bear  away  the  palm 
8 


86  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

of  universal  talent,  we  are  inclined  to  concede  the  fore- 
most rank  in  each  separate  pursuit.  His  productions, 
thus  dominating  among  the  labours  of  man,  bewilder  the 
judgment  both  by  their  real  and  their  apparent  magni- 
tude. Thus  some  giant  cliff,  rising  far  above  minor  ele- 
vations, while  it  serves  as  a  landmark  to  the  traveller,  mis- 
leads his  conceptions  of  its  own  distance  and  immediate 
relations  of  site. 

Here  it  appears  the  proper,  or  at  least  simplest  method, 
to  present  such  gradual  unfolding  of  the  subject  as  each 
branch  separately  may  seem  to  require,  reserving  a  gene- 
ral view  for  such  place  as  shall  give  the  reader  full  com- 
mand of  the  joint  influences,  bearings,  and  consequences 
of  these  details. 

In  sculpture,  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo  are  divided 
between  Rome  and  Florence.  They  are  not  numerous, 
and  few  are  even  finished.  Impatience  of  slowly  pro- 
gressive labour,  united  with  indomitable  activity  and  un- 
wearied industry  —  fastidiousness  of  fancy,  and  exalted 
perceptions  of  excellence,  joined  with  a  reckless  daring 
in  execution,  form  singular  distinctions  of  intellectual 
temperament.  Hence  have  sprung  the  characteristic  beau- 
ties and  the  besetting  errors  of  his  style  in  sculpture  —  a 
style  discovering  much  that  is  derived  from  liberal  and 
enlightened  study  of  the  sublime  and  graceful  in  nature, 
but  still  more  of  those  qualities  which  arise  from  the  pe- 
culiarities of  an  individual  and  erratic,  though  rich  and 
powerful,  imagination.  Rarely  do  his  statues  exhibit  that 
simplicity  and  repose  essential  to  beauty  in  an  art  —  grave, 
dignified,  or  even  austere,  and  possessing  means  compara- 
tively limited  and  uniform.  Forced  and  constrained  atti- 
tude, proportions  exaggerated,  expression  awful,  gloomy, 
and  unearthly,  forms  of  unnatural,  of  superhuman  energy 
—  these  constitute  the  ideal  of  his  composition.    In  giv- 


SCULPTURE. 


87 


ing  visible  existence  to  these  ideas,  his  execution  is  most 
wonderful.  A  force,  a  fire,  an  enthusiasm,  elsewhere  un- 
felt,  unknown,  give  to  every  limb  and  lineament,  a  vital- 
ity, a  movement,  resembling  more  the  sudden  mandate  of 
inspiration,  than  a  laborious  and  retarded  effort.  The 
first  impressions  created  by  these  works  are  thus  irresist- 
ibly powerful ;  but  they  startle,  surprise,  astonish  —  do  not 
soothe,  delight,  and  satisfy  the  mind.  An  influence  origi- 
nating solely  in  the  imagination,  and  in  which  the  sensi- 
bilities of  the  heart  have  little  interest,  cannot  long  retain 
its  power ;  the  ordinary  tone  of  feeling  returns,  and  amid 
the  unquiet  and  aspiring  composition  seeks  for  nature  and 
repose. 

If  the  productions  and  style  of  Michael  Angelo  be  com- 
pared with  the  great  standards  of  excellence  and  of  truth 
in  sculpture  —  nature,  and  the  remains  of  ancient  art,  he 
will  be  found  to  have  deviated  widely  from  both,  or  rather, 
perhaps,  he  has  rendered  both  subservient  to  his  own  par- 
ticular views  of  each.  He  has  created  to  himself  modes 
of  imitation,  which  should  in  themselves  claim  a  para- 
mount importance,  independent  of  all  archetypes ;  while 
these  latter  are  connected  with  the  originals  of  reality, 
only  as  an  intermediate  step  to  the  realms  of  fancy.  Hence, 
round  a  false,  though  gorgeous  and  imposing  art,  his  gen- 
ius has  swept  a  magic  circle,  within  whose  perilous  bound 
no  inferior  spirit  has  dared  with  impunity  to  tread.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  such  was  the  fascination  produced 
in  his  own  age,  when  the  forcible  and  imaginative  were 
admired  above  the  simple  and  the  true,  thai  his  works 
became  a  standard  by  which  the  past  was  to  be  tried,  and 
the  future  directed.  As  a  necessary  consequence,  a  pro- 
digious and  irreparable  lapse  was  prepared  for  the  art. 
The  imitation  of  a  natural  style  will  ever  be  productive  of 
good  ;  it  will  ultimately  lead  to  no  imitation,  by  conducting 


88 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


to  the  primeval  source.  The  very  reverse  is  the  effect  of 
following  a  guide  such  as  Buonarotti,  who  has  departed 
from  nature  farther,  we  will  venture  to  say,  than  any  great 
name  on  record,  whether  in  literature  or  in  art.  Irregu- 
larities and  imperfections  in  almost  every  other  instance 
of  lofty  genius,  are  forgotten  amid  the  deep-thrilling  pathos, 
or  soothing  loveliness,  of  natural  expression  ;  but  amid  the 
awe-inspiring,  the  commanding,  the  overpowering  repre- 
sentations of  the  Tuscan,  the  soul  languishes  for  nature. 
His  creations  are  not  of  this  world,  nor  does  feeling  volun- 
tarily respond  to  the  mysterious  and  uncontrollable  mastery 
which  they  exert  over  it.  The  cause  and  progress  of  this 
dereliction  of  nature  can  also  be  traced.  He  had  marked 
the  perplexities  and  constraint  under  which  his  predeces- 
sors had  laboured,  in  their  endeavors  to  unite  the  forms 
and  expressions  of  living  nature  with  images  of  ideal 
beauty,  overlooking  the  productions  of  classic  sculpture,  in 
which  this  union  is  so  happily  accomplished  :  because  to 
his  vigorous,  rather  than  refined  perceptions,  its  simplicity 
appeared  poverty,  he  fearlessly  struck  into  a  line  of  art, 
where  all  was  to  be  new  —  vehement  —  wonderful. 

From  the  antique,  besides  simplicity,  Michael  Angelo 
has  deviated  in  another  important,  and,  indeed,  vital  re- 
spect ;  a  deviation,  indeed,  which  changes  completely  the 
very  aspect  of  art.  Of  the  two  elements  of  sculptural  de- 
sign —  form  and  expression  —  the  ancients  selected  form 
as  the  principal  object  of  their  representation  :  the  modern 
has  preferred  expression,  to  which  he  may  be  said  almost 
to  have  sacrificed  form ;  or  rather,  he  has  so  contorted  his 
figures,  by  the  violence  of  their  emotions,  that  all  is  ex- 
pression, and  that  of  the  most  vehement  kind.  Here, 
however,  it  may  be  asked,  how  far  has  prescription  the 
power  to  determine  this  matter  ?  To  this  it  may  be  re- 
plied, that  not  only  the  associations  springing  from  the 


SCULPTURE. 


89 


most  perfect  of  human  works  were  opposed  to  this  choice, 
but  also  the  internal  proprieties  of  the  art  favour  the  selec- 
tion of  the  ancients.  In  sculpture  all  is  staid,  enduring, 
actual ;  movement  alone  is  the  only  passing  object  of  imi- 
tation. Expression,  therefore,  at  least  strong  and  individu- 
al expression,  as  a  primary  characteristic  —  as  destructive 
of  symmetry,  and  as  implying  an  effort  ungraceful,  when 
connected  with  unyielding  materials,  seems  not  a  legitimate 
beauty  of  higher  art.  Indeed,  passion  is  inconsistent  with 
the  beautiful  in  form,  or  the  dignified  in  sentiment.  A 
sweetly  pleasing,  a  gently  agitating  excitement,  or  a  nobly 
repressed  feeling,  visible  only  in  the  resolve  of  soul,  and 
mastering  of  sorrow,  is  the  true  and  the  only  proper  ex- 
pression in  sculpture.  Grief  alone  seems  to  be  admissible 
in  its  deepest  pathos. 

Considered  in  connexion  with  the  impetuous  style  of 
his  composition,  nothing  can  be  finer  than  the  execution 
of  Michael  Angelo.  It  participates  in,  it  harmonizes  with, 
his  ardent  temperament  of  mind  ;  rapid,  impatient,  fervid, 
it  seems  to  animate  and  create,  rather  than  form,  the 
breathing  conceptions.  But  taken  alone,  it  discovers 
many  technical  peculiarities  and  imperfections.  From 
having  sometimes  merely  sketched,  or,  at  most,  modelled 
the  subject  in  small,  nay,  in  some  instances,  with  no  other 
suggestion  or  guide,  save  the  accidental  shape  of  the  block, 
he  struck  into  the  marble.  It  was  impossible,  under  these 
circumstances,  to  avoid  error.  While  the  hand,  the  eye, 
the  mind,  were  thus  in  instant  exertion ;  while  propriety 
of  expression  and  beauty  of  outline,  mechanical  detail,  and 
general  effect,  grandeur  of  the  whole,  and  propriety  of 
parts,  were  at  once  to  be  studied,  and  that,  too,  where 
each  stroke  removes  what  never  can  be  again  united  — 
imperfection  was  almost  a  necessary  consequence.  Hence 
the  want  of  proportion  so  conspicuous  in  many  of  his  best 
8* 


90 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


works  —  in  the  Moses  even  ;  hence  so  few  finished  ; 
hence,  too,  his  statues,  like  paintings,  seldom  present  more 
than  one  point  of  view.  As  regards  more  individual  de- 
tails ;  in  the  salient  lines  of  the  contours,  the  circles  have 
rarely  their  just  value,  and  the  surfaces  want  their  proper 
fulness.  Partly  to  compensate  this  deficiency  in  the  ad- 
vancing curves,  partly  as  a  characteristic  distinction, 
which  consists  in  strongly  pronouncing  the  muscles,  the 
retiring  lines,  or  muscular  depressions,  are  expressed  in 
exaggerated  depth.  Trusting  to  mechanical  dexterity, 
also,  and  to  a  profound  science,  he  was  frequently  reduced 
to  work  without  model,  or  reference  to  the  living  form. 
This  produces  a  rigidity,  a  want  of  feeling,  and  a  manner- 
ism, in  his  best  performances  even,  the  commencement  of 
those  conventional  modes  which  finally  superseded  all  dili- 
gent study  of  nature,  and  led  to  the  abandonment  of  every 
genuine  grace  of  sculpture. 

The  style  and  character  of  composition  now  described 
is  evidently  one  of  study  and  acquisition  ;  we  might  there- 
fore expect  a  gradation  to  be  apparent  in  the  works  from 
which  we  have  deduced  our  remarks.  Accordingly,  the 
earlier  performances  of  the  artist  retain  much  of  the  sim- 
plicity and  truth  of  the  fifteenth  century,  exhibiting,  at 
the  same  time,  much  of  the  better  part  of  the  qualities 
now  described  as  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  school. 
These  we  are  inclined,  upon  the  whole,  to  regard,  if  not 
the  most  splendid,  as  the  most  correct  examples  of  Michael 
Angelo's  powers.  His  later  and  more  important  labours 
present,  in  their  full  maturity,  the  peculiar  modes  of 
thought  and  execution  which  constitute  the  principles  of 
this  era.  A  regular  gradation,  however,  is  scarcely  to  be 
traced,  since,  in  his  very  old  age,  he  perceived  and  la- 
mented the  brilliant  but  fatal  errors  of  his  style ;  and,  in 
the  few  works  then  finished,  a  degree  of  sobriety  and 


SCULPTURE. 


91 


chasteness  is  observed.  He  saw  and  lamented,  too  late, 
the  fall  prepared  for  sculpture. 

Of  the  works  of  this  master  at  Florence,  the  Bacchus, 
notwithstanding  the  undignified  expression  of  inebriety,  is 
the  most  correct  in  its  forms,  and  the  least  mannered  in 
composition.  The  tombs  of  the  Medici  show  much  of 
whatever  is  most  splendid,  and  what  is  most  reprehensible 
in  the  genius  of  their  author.  They  might  indeed  be  se- 
lected as  special  illustrations  of  the  general  views  just 
given.  Every  figure  —  there  are  six  —  bears  the  strong 
impress  of  a  spirit  delighting  in  the  great  and  the  wonder- 
ful —  an  imagination  eager  in  the  pursuit  of  untried  modes 
of  existence,  and  a  consciousness  of  power  to  execute  the 
most  daring  conceptions.  Intelligence  in  science,  breadth 
of  touch,  boldness  of  manner,  fearlessness  of  difficulty, 
unite  to  give  life  and  movement  to  attitudes  the  most  re- 
mote from  such  as  nature  would  voluntarily  assume,  or 
graceful  design  select.  Rome  contains  the  most  perfect 
and  the  most  wonderful  of  Michael  Angelo's  statues.  The 
Pieta,  or  Virgin  and  Dead  Saviour,  in  St  Peter's,  finished 
in  his  twentyfourth  year,  is  not  only  at  the  head  of  the 
first  division  of  his  works,  but,  on  the  whole,  is  the  least 
exaggerated,  and  the  most  natural  of  all.  The  Moses,  on 
the  tomb  of  Julius  II.,  amid  the  creations  of  genius,  rises 
a  solitary  and  matchless  monument.  Without  model 
among  the  productions  of  antiquity,  it  has  remained  inimi- 
table and  unimitated  in  modern  times.  Neither  in  nature 
do  we  find  its  prototype  :  it  is  the  extraordinary  concep- 
tion of  an  extraordinary  mind.  Thus  isolated  by  its 
own  peculiar  sublimity  of  character,  this  statue  exhibits  a 
striking  resemblance  of  the  imagination  whence  it  derived 
existence.  We  behold  a  being  who  awes,  who  subdues, 
yet  who  fails  to  interest  —  for  with  such  humanity  enter- 
tains no  communion  of  feeling.    Here  the  sublime  is  too 


92 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


exclusively  sought  in  the  vehement  and  the  marvellous ; 
every  effort  is  forced,  every  trait  exaggerated,  and  the 
whole  shows  a  daring  originality  verging  on  the  extrava- 
gant and  the  false.  The  solemn  majesty  —  the  dignified 
repose  —  the  commanding  simplicity,  admired  in  ancient 
sculpture  —  those  milder  beauties  which  sentiment  alone 
can  appreciate — those  exalted  and  touching  graces  which 
arise  from  elegance  or  nobleness  of  form  —  from  refined 
and  subdued  expression  —  from  elevated  yet  genuine  na- 
ture, in  the  Moses  are  looked  for  in  vain. 

Than  Michael  Angelo,  no  artist  has  ever  exerted  a  more 
extensive  influence,  or  more  deeply  impressed  his  peculiar 
views,  upon  art.  Indeed,  so  much  is  this  the  case,  that, 
during  the  sixteenth  century,  not  a  single  sculptor  appears 
who  is  not  to  be  ranked  either  as  a  disciple  or  imitator. 
Even  to  this  our  own  time,  the  influence  in  some  respect 
continues.  In  sculpture  more  than  in  painting  or  archi- 
tecture, though  for  the  first  he  did  less  than  for  the  second 
art,  was  his  genius  paramount.  Of  contemporaries,  then, 
and  successors,  from  his  death  in  1564,  to  the  end  of  the 
century,  the  only  distinction  is  between  those  who  imitated 
and  those  who  studied  under  this  great  leader.  Among 
the  most  eminent  of  the  former  was  Baccio  Bandinelli,  a 
rival,  who  contended  with  less  generous  weapons  than 
those  of  talent :  yet  he  must  receive  justice,  —  as  a  sculp- 
tor he  is  second  only,  sometimes  hardly  inferior,  to  Buo- 
narotti.  Baccio  di  Monte  Lupo  was  an  original  artist  of 
considerable  power.  Andrea  Contucci  founded  the  school 
of  Loretto.  Francisco  Rustici,  an  excellent  founder, 
more  eminent  still  as  the  master  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
carried  the  manner  of  this  school  into  France,  dying  at 
Paris  in  1550.  Giacomo  Tatti,  better  known  as  Sanso- 
vino,  presided  over  the  Venetian  works  of  sculpture  and 
architecture  with  much  reputation,  having  studied  along 


SCULPTURE. 


93 


with  Michael  Angelo  at  Rome,  whence  he  fled  in  1527, 
on  the  sack  of  that  capital  by  Bourbon.  He  survived  the 
great  Florentine,  and  became  founder  of  a  numerous  and 
respectable  school,  where  Cattaneo  and  Vittoria  supported 
the  credit  of  their  instructer  :  the  latter  perfected  work- 
ing in  stucco.  In  Milan,  Agostino  Basti,  and  Guglielmo 
della  Porta,  were  highly  distinguished,  especially  the  lat- 
ter ;  as  were  also,  in  Naples,  Marliano  Nola,  and  Garo- 
lamo  St  Croce.  In  these  schools,  however,  we  trace  the 
most  rapid  decay  of  the  art,  in  simplicity  and  correct  de- 
sign, from  the  splendour  of  the  courts  demanding  employ- 
ment of  the  arts  on  objects  of  temporary  interest,  when 
rapidity  was  preferred  to  excellence  of  execution. 

Among  the  real  disciples  of  the  Florentine,  the  follow- 
ing were  the  chief :  —  Raphael  di  Monte  Lupo,  a  favorite 
pupil,  who  assisted  his  master  in  the  tomb  of  Julius,  the 
greatest  undertaking  in  modern  sculpture,  if  completed ; 
Nicolo  di  Tribulo,  an  excellent  founder,  by  whom  are  the 
bronze  doors  of  the  cathedral  at  Bologna ;  Giovanni  del 
Opera,  whose  name  is  significant  of  his  industry ;  Danti, 
the  closest  imitator  of  his  instructer.  Ammanati  subse- 
quently transferred  his  attention  to  architecture.  Giovanni 
di  Bologna,  a  Frenchman  by  birth,  an  Italian  as  a  sculp- 
tor, was  the  most  eminent  of  all  the  scholars  of  Michael 
Angelo ;  and,  on  the  death  of  the  latter,  continued  to  be 
the  leading  master  in  Europe  till  the  end  of  the  century. 

Beyond  the  confines  of  Italy,  the  art  had  yet  made  few 
advances  worthy  of  notice ;  and  what  little  had  been  ac- 
complished was  upon  the  principles  of  the  Tuscan  school. 
Thus,  at  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  genius  and 
principles  of  Michael  Angelo  extended  their  influence 
over  the  whole  of  Europe.  During  the  last  thirty  years 
of  this  era,  however,  the  art  had  been  on  the  decline. 
These  principles  could  be  maintained  only  by  that  genius 


94 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


by  which  they  had  been  invented  and  matured ;  and  by  it 
alone  could  the  errors  of  the  system  be  consecrated  or 
concealed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  seventeenth  century  thus  rose  with  few  favorable 
presages  for  sculpture.  The  Group  of  Hercules  and  the 
Centaur,  set  up  in  Florence  the  last  year  of  the  former 
era,  serves  to  show  a  considerable  falling  off  in  the  intel- 
lectual qualities,  while  it  displays  also  many  improvements 
and  facilities  introduced  into  the  technical  principles  and 
modes  of  mechanical  operation.  These  are  the  last  beau- 
ties to  linger  in  the  lapse  of  talent.  External  circumstan- 
ces, also,  both  moral  and  political,  had  become  less  favor- 
able. The  states  of  Italy  were  either  no  longer  alive  to 
the  same  motives  which  had  induced  a  cultivation  of  sculp- 
ture, or,  with  the  loss  of  liberty,  had  lost  also  the  desire 
of  prosecuting  the  measures  of  public  aggrandizement. 
The  ascendancy  of  painting,  likewise,  was  hostile  to  the 
recovery  of  a  manly  and  accurate  style  of  design  in  the 
sister  art ;  while  the  spirit  of  philosophical  inquiry,  which 
came  abroad  in  the  seventeenth  century,  was  inimical  to 
the  fine  arts  generally.  It  must,  however,  be  acknowl- 
edged, that  the  great  sources  of  decline  originated  in  the 
state  of  the  art  itself.  Indeed,  when  a  high  degree  of 
excellence  has  been  attained  in  any  art,  a  rapid  and  sud- 
den retrogression  will  always  be  found  to  indicate  the 
operation  of  external  influences ;  at  the  same  time,  such 


SCULPTURE.  95 

% 

falling  off  must  always  be  preceded  by,  and  is  in  part  the 
result  of,  internal  corruption  in  the  principles  of  com- 
position or  of  criticism. 

A  crowd  of  undistinguished  names  followed  the  disso- 
lution of  the  great  Tuscan  school.  And  when  at  length 
an  artist  of  decided  talent  appeared,  instead  of  retracing 
the  steps  of  his  predecessors,  he  struck  into  a  new  path, 
conducting  still  more  pronely  to  error.  Bernini,  born  at 
Naples  in  159S,  though  immeasurably  inferior  to  the  mighty 
master  of  the  last  century  in  majesty  and  energy  of  mind, 
possessed  most  of  the  requisites  for  becoming  one  of  the 
greatest  of  modern  sculptors.  Unfortunately,  he  neglected, 
or  was  ignorant  of,  the  species  of  invention  which  belongs 
to  an  imitative  art ;  and  choosing  rather  to  be  the  founder 
of  a  sept,  than  rank  among  the  fathers  of  regular  art,  he 
employed  his  endowments  only  to  throw  a  meretricious 
splendour  round  the  caprices  of  a  silly  and  affected  man- 
ner. His  powers  of  execution  were  wonderful,  his  fertil- 
ity of  fancy  exuberant,  but  they  were  under  control 
neither  of  regulated  judgment  nor  of  manly  taste.  To 
Bernini,  the  conceptions  of  ancient  simplicity  seemed 
poverty  and  meagreness.  The  compositions  of  Michael 
Angelo  he  deemed  more  forcible,  but  too  severe  in  char- 
acter. His  aim  consequently  was,  to  erect  a  third  style, 
which  should  possess  distinctive  qualities,  displaying 
greater  strength  and  energy  than,  to  his  taste,  the  former 
presented,  while  it  surpassed  the  latter  in  suavity  and  grace. 
In  pursuit  of  these  imaginary  excellences,  he  deviated, 
and  by  his  talents  or  patronage  carried  art  along  with 
him,  still  farther  from  the  simple,  the  true,  and  the  natu- 
ral. To  produce  effect,  by  whatever  means  of  startling 
attitude,  voluminous  drapery,  forced  expression,  became 
the  sole  object  of  study  —  means  the  most  improper  for 
sculpture.    The  works  of  Bernini  are  very  numerous,  for 


96  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

his  opportunities  as  master  of  the  works  to  several  succes- 
sive Popes  were  extensive.  All  are  composed  in  the  same 
false  and  flattering  taste. 

Contemporaries  were  generally  imitators.  Algard  and 
Fiammingo,  however,  preserved  the  dignity  of  indepen- 
dent, and,  in  a  certain  degree,  merited  the  praise  of  ori- 
ginal minds.  The  former  has  produced  the  largest,  but 
not  the  best,  relievo  of  modern  art;  the  latter  is  most 
happy  in  the  representation  of  children,  which,  to  use  the 
words  of  Rubens,  '  Nature,  rather  than  art,  appears  to 
have  sculptured ;  the  marble  seems  softened  into  life.5 

To  Bernini,  who  died  in  1680,  Camilla  Rusconi,  a 
Milanese,  succeeded  in  the  throne  of  sculpture  during  the 
remainder  of  the  seventeenth,  and  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Following 
the  same  principles  as  his  greater  predecessor,  but  with 
talents  much  inferior,  in  the  hands  of  Rusconi  deteriora- 
tion of  taste  became  proportionably  more  rapid,  while  the 
influence  of  external  circumstances  was  also  adverse. 
Italy  was  already  filled  with  statues,  and  no  undertakings 
of  magnitude  presenting,  the  art  continued  to  languish  dur- 
ing the  greater  part  of  the  last  century,  suffering  both  from 
defect  of  principle,  and  poverty  of  means. 

During  the  time  that  has  elapsed,  Transalpine  sculpture 
scarcely  demands  our  notice.  In  France,  we  first  discover 
the  art  separately  and  extensively  practised  i  for  in  other 
countries  it  was  associated  with  ornamental  architecture. 
The  expeditions  of  Charles  VIII.  and  the  personal  pre- 
dilections of  Francis,  had  introduced  among  their  sub- 
jects some  knowledge  of  Italian  refinement ;  and  so  early 
as  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  French  sculptors 
of  considerable  eminence  appear.  Jean  Gougon  com- 
pleted the  celebrated  Fountain  of  the  Innocents  in  1550. 
The  works  of  a  contemporary,  Jean  Cousin,  show  some 


SCULPTURE* 


97 


grace  and  delicacy  >  but  want  strength  and  correctness. 
German  Pilon  assimilates  very  closely  to  the  style  of  the 
Tuscan  masters  in  energetic  detail,  but  is  destitute  of 
simplicity  and  natural  expression.  Jacques  D'Angouleme 
had  merit,  but  not  enough  to  warrant  the  statement  of 
native  historians,  that  he  defeated  Michael  Angelo  in  a 
trial  of  skill.  Towards  the  conclusion  of  this  century, 
Giovanni  di  Bologna  filled  the  whole  of  France  with  the 
principles  of  his  former  master  ;  and  his  own  pupils  con- 
tinued to  maintain  similar,  though  inferior,  practice  to  the 
golden  age  of  refinement  in  France  —  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  Of  this  school,  two  artists,  Girardon  and  Puget, 
claim  to  be  the  head.  The  former,  though  we  cannot 
say  with  Voltaire,  ' il  a  egale  tout  ce  que  l'antiquite  a  de 
plus  beau,'  has  yet  great  merit.  His  manner  of  design, 
with  a  degree  of  hardness,  is  yet  noble,  and  though  cold, 
is  more  correct  than  that  of  his  contemporaries,  as  ap- 
pears from  the  tomb  of  Richelieu.  Puget,  in  every  res- 
pect the  opposite  as  to  intellectual  temperament,  is  the 
favorite  of  his  countrymen.  Sculpteur,  Architects,  et- 
Peintre,  as  they,  after  the  historian  of  Louis  XIV.,  are 
fond  of  representing  him,  for  the  sake  of  comparison  with 
Buonarotti,  though  what  he  painted,  or  what  he  built,  does 
not  appear,  is  yet  not  dissimilar  in  the  fiery  energetic 
character  of  his  composition,  and  in  his  handling,  bold 
and  full  of  movement ;  but  his  expression  is  studied,  his 
science  inaccurate,  his  forms  wanting  in  nobleness  and 
grace.  Sarasin  was  a  most  esteemed  contemporary,  and, 
in  the  Caryatides  of  the  Louvre,  has  equalled  the  best 
sculpture  of  France.  To  the  schools  of  the  two  first 
mentioned,  however,  and  especially  of  Puget,  in  style  at 
least,  are  to  be  referred  the  succeeding  artists  of  France, 
as  Les  Gros,  Theodon,  Le  Peintre,  Desjardins,  Coysevaux 
Vaucleve,  the  two  Coustous,  all  flourishing  at  the  close  of 
9 


98 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  seventeenth,  and  during  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  last  of  this  list  is  Bouchardon,  under  Louis 
XV.;  for  though  his  unfortunate  successor  inclined  to 
patronise  talent,  the  excesses  of  the  Revolution  proved 
not  less  injurious  to  living  art,  than  destructive  of  ancient 
monuments.  Among  the  latest  works  previous  to  this 
horrid  outbreaking,  was  the  statue  of  Voltaire,  by  Pigal, 
now  in  the  library  of  the  Institute,  and  upon  which  the 
following  severe  epigram  was  composed  :  — 

Pigal  au  naturel  represente  Voltaire  — 

Le  squelette  a  la  fois  off  re  l'homme  et  l'auteur. 

L'oeil  qui  le  voit  sans  parure  etrangere 

Est  effraye  de  sa  maigreur  ! 

Bermudez,  the  historian  of  Spanish  art,  enumerates  a 
splendid  list  of  native  sculptors  from  the  commencement 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  This,  however,  is  scarcely  con- 
sistent with  the  fact,  that  not  till  1558,  in  consequence  of 
a  royal  edict,  was  this  esteemed  a  liberal  profession,  or 
admitted  to  any  privileges  as  such.  It  is  easy  to  perceive 
indeed,  that  national  partiality,  or  that  adventitious  mag- 
nitude which  every  subject  is  apt  to  acquire  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  writer,  has  led,  in  this  instance,  to  consider  as 
artists,  those  who  have  with  remarkable  success  been  em- 
ployed in  ornamenting  the  fine  ecclesiastical  edifices  in 
Spain,  beyond  which  they  are  little  known.  Berruguete, 
a  pupil  of  Michael  Angelo,  appears  to  have  founded  the 
first  regular  school,  of  which  Paul  de  Cespides  was  the 
ornament,  as  he  is  of  the  national  sculpture. 

Before  the  seventeenth  century,  Germany  makes  no 
appearance  in  a  general  history  of  sculpture ;  and  even 
now  she  is  more  celebrated  for  her  writers  on  the  philoso- 
phy, than  for  her  artists  in  the  practice,  of  the  art.  Still 
the  genius  of  the  nation  we  should  be  inclined  to  estimate 


SCULPTURE. 


99 


as  highly  favorable  to  its  future  advancement.  In  Vienna, 
Rauchmiiller ;  in  Silesia,  Leigebe ;  at  Berlin,  Schluter, 
Millich,  Barthel,  and  others,  have  proved  this  estimate  not 
unfounded.  While  our  more  immediate  contemporaries, 
Ohnmacht,  Sonnenschein,  Nahl,  the  two  Shadofs,  espe- 
cially the  younger,  whose  Spinning  Girl  is  one  of  the  most 
exquisite  imitations  of  simple  nature  which  modern  art 
can  show,  do  not  discourage  this  hope ;  if  indeed  artists 
be  not  carried  away  by  that  unnatural  striving  after  mar- 
vellous effect,  which  has  wrought  so  much  injury  to  com- 
mon sense  and  right  feeling  in  German  literature. 

On  reviewing  the  history  of  modern  sculpture  during 
its  rise  and  perfection,  to  the  decline  immediately  antece- 
dent to  the  present  century,  we  find  that,  from  the  com- 
mencement of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  the  art  began 
to  rank  among  national  causes  of  exertion  and  feeling, 
progress  towards  perfection,  and  in  the  most  direct  path, 
was  rapid.  Hence  it  has  been  the  singular  distinction  of 
the  sculptors  of  this  period,  to  have  left  models  in  their 
own  works,  while  their  previous  discoveries  enabled  those 
who  immediately  followed  also  to  produce  models.  They 
have  thus  remained  original  in  an  age  of  originality. 
During  the  sixteenth  century,  causes  more  remotely  con- 
nected with  real  patriotism  —  an  ostentatious  desire  of 
splendour,  not  an  unaffected  love  of  refinement — operat- 
ed in  the  promotion  of  the  arts ;  and  in  Sculpture,  in 
particular,  the  artificial  excitement  imparted  a  portion  of 
its  spirit  to  its  effects.  From  the  age  of  Michael  Angelo 
inclusive,  we  find  that  the  desire  of  novelty,  a  continued 
endeavor  to  extend  the  boundaries  of  art,  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  imaginary  perfections  inconsistent  with  its  real 
character  and  excellence,  were  the  rocks  on  which  was 
ma4e  fatal  shipwreck  of  truth,  of  simplicity,  and  of  beau- 
ty.   These  imagined  improvements  were  directed  to  the 


100 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


acquisition  of  two  grand  objects.  A  style  of  composition 
was  aimed  at,  more  purely  ideal,  less  connected  with  na- 
ture, than  is  to  be  found  in  the  remains  of  the  ancient,  or 
in  the  works  of  the  early  modern  masters.  Genius  hov- 
ered on  the  very  confines  of  credibility  and  of  the  impos- 
sible, deriving  the  elements  of  its  creations  from  imagin- 
ings awful  and  imposing,  embodied  in  forms  of  gloomy 
sublimity  and  power,  overwhelming  —  not  awakening  — 
to  the  human  sympathies.  As  characteristics  of  this  imagi- 
native style,  the  proportions  are  enlarged,  the  expressions 
forced,  and  action  and  energy  are  given,  destructive  of 
grace  and  reality.  Art  is  raised  to  regions  where  nature 
is  unknown,  and  where  the  very  highest  exertions  of  .  in- 
tellect and  fancy  could  hardly  sustain  interest.  This  was 
more  especially  the  style  of  the  Tuscan  school,  and  it  fell 
with  its  great  founder,  who  had  placed  the  art  on  this 
dangerous  height.  But,  in  the  second  place,  sculpture 
was  sought  to  be  assimilated  to  painting,  and  merit  was 
estimated  by  the  extent  to  which  imitation  was  carried  — 
in  difficulty  and  variety  of  effect,  in  complicated  detail, 
in  volume  of  drapery,  and,  latterly,  even  in  facility  of  pro- 
duction. This  taste  first  began  decidedly  in  the  school 
of  Bernini,  and  exclusively  cherished  the  powers  of  me- 
chanical execution,  in  preference  to  the  unobtrusive  but 
essential  beauties  of  purity  and  correctness  of  design. 
Hence  the  rapid  decline  ;  for  statues  soon  became  merely 
confused  masses  of  drapery,  without  drawing,  and  with- 
out science.  Still  the  chisel  was  wielded  with  great  me- 
chanical dexterity ;  but  before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  every  moral  beauty,  sentiment,  truth,  feeling> 
had  disappeared  from  the  labours  of  the  sculptor. 


t 


SCULPTURE. 


101 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Art  has  never  been  reformed,  after  a  lapse  from  high 
eminence,  by  mere  imitation  of  examples,  however  excel- 
lent ;  nor  by  only  following  rules  for  the  correction  of 
error.  It  is  here  as  in  morals,  example  succeeds  where 
precept  would  fail.  Some  mind  of  uncommon  firmness 
and  good  sense  is  required,  who,  beginning  with  nature, 
brings  to  the  work  of  reformation  original  powers  and 
severe  judgment ;  fancy  and  feeling,  with  correctness  and 
cultivated  taste :  one,  in  short,  of  those  rare  minds  whose 
merits,  great  in  themselves,  become  incomparably  greater 
viewed  with  the  times  in  which  they  commenced  their 
career ;  whose  exertions,  wonderful  in  their  own  accom- 
plishments, are  yet  more  admirable  from  the  progress 
which  thereby  others  have  been  enabled  to  effect.  Such 
a  genius  was  that  possessed  by  Canova,  a  name  venerable 
alike  for  virtue  and  for  talents.  Born,  in  1757,  in  a  dis- 
tant and  otherwise  unknown  hamlet,  in  the  territory  of 
Treviso  —  fallen  upon  evil  days  in  his  art  —  of  the  most 
obscure  parentage,  destined  to  fill  the  humble  and  labo- 
rious occupation  of  village  stone-cutter  —  remote,  in  the 
first  instance,  from  every  advice  and  assistance,  he  rose  to 
be  the  companion  of  princes,  the  restorer  of  art,  and  the 
generous  patron  of  merit  friendless  as  his  own.  We 
know  not  whether  more  to  love  or  to  admire  Canova.  In 
his  fifteenth  year,  repairing  to  Venice,  the  cloisters  of  a 
convent  supplied  him,  through  the  benevolence  of  the 
good  fathers,  with  a  work-shop  ;  and  only  fifteen  years 
afterwards,  through  a  struggle  of  poverty,  yet  redeemed 
by  prudence  and  industry,  and  sweetened  by  independ- 
ence, he  erected  in  St  Peter's  the  monument  of  Ganga- 
9* 


102 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


nelli  —  the  first  fruits  of  a  spirit,  whose  sobriety  of  tem- 
perament, more  valuable  and  more  rare  than  mere  origi- 
nal invention,  here  exhibited  a  correctness  which  would 
amend,  with  a  vigour  which  would  elevate,  a  fallen  age. 

A  series  of  more  than  two  hundred  compositions,  of 
which  this  was  the  first,  standing  itself  nobly  conspicuous, 
yet  only  a  step  from  previous  imbecility,  presents  too  ex- 
tensive a  field  for  particular  description,  or  minute  exam- 
ination. The  remembrance  is  yet  fresh  upon  our  memory, 
when,  arranged  in  a  funereal  hall,  representations  of  these 
works  might  well  have  been  deemed  the  labours  of  a 
generation  ;  and  while  now  about  to  describe  the  originals, 
we  bear  in  recollection,  that  to  view  these  a  considerable 
portion  of  Europe  has  been  traversed.  Thus  numerous, 
and  widely  extending  the  influence  of  their  style,  these 
productions  certainly /require  careful  notice.  Avoiding 
details,  then,  we  shall  class  them  under  Heroic  subjects  ; 
Compositions  of  softness  and  grace  —  Monumental  erec- 
tions and  Relievos. 

The  superiority  of  Canova  has  been  questioned  in  the 
first  of  these  departments  only.  He  has  been  admitted  a 
master  of  the  beautiful  —  hardly  of  the  grand.  Or  rather, 
perhaps,  while  his  claims  have  been  universally  recognised 
in  representing  the  softer  graces  of  loveliness,  his  powers 
in  the  sublimities  of  severe  and  masculine  composition  are 
less  generally  appreciated.  This  estimation  is  unjust, 
having  been  originated  and  maintained  by  causes  entirely 
extrinsic  to  the  genius  or  labours  of  the  artist.  In  not 
one,  but  many  groups  and  single  statues,  he  has  attained 
some  of  the  loftiest  aims  of  sculpture.  In  manly  and 
vigorous  beauty  of  form,  the  Perseus ;  in  forceful  expres- 
sion and  perfection  of  science,  the  Pugilists  —  a  work,  in 
its  peculiar  range,  one  of  the  most  classical  of  modern  art ; 
in  harmonious  and  noble  composition,  uniting  nature  and 


SCULPTURE.  103 


poetic  feeling,  the  Theseus  combating  the  Centaur;  in 
the  terrible  of  sentiment  and  suffering,  the  Hercules ;  — 
these,  with  the  Ajax,  Hector,  Paris,  Palamedes,  all  belong- 
ing to  the  grand  style  of  art,  may  challenge  comparison 
with  any  works  of  the  modern  chisel,  in  the  beauties  of 
sustained  effect,  learned  design,  boldness  yet  exquisite 
delicacy  of  execution  ;  while  as  to  number,  the  series  here 
is.  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  any  single  mind.  In  the 
majestic  or  venerable  realities  of  portraiture,  again,  there 
is  Napoleon;  Pius  VI., Washington,  Ganganelli,  Rezzonico. 

In  the  second  department,  the  compositions  of  Canova 
have  enriched  modern  art  with  the  most  glowing  concep- 
tions of  elegance  and  grace  ;  raised,  and  yet  more  refined, 
by  the  expression  of  some  elevating  or  endearing  senti- 
ment. Here,  indeed,  has  been  allotted  his  peculiar  and 
unapproachable  walk.  Yet  it  may  justly  be  doubted, 
whether  he  be  not  superior  in  the  former  class,  where  his 
merit  has  hitherto  been  denied  or  doubted.  True,  one  or 
two  works  in  the  second,  as  the  Venus  recumbent,  the 
Nymph,  and  Cupid,  are  superior,  as  examples  of  beauty 
and  grace,  to  any  one  of  masculine  character  which  might 
be  compared  with  them ;  but,  as  a  class,  the  second  is 
less  uniformly  dignified  and  excellent  than  the  first.  The 
great  defect  here,  indeed,  is  a  want  of  dignity  in  the  fe- 
male figures  ;  which,  though  equally  removed  from  the 
flimsy  affectations  of  his  immediate  predecessors,  as  from 
the  robust  and  austere  proportions  of  the  Tuscan  school, 
are  not  always  free  from  the  meagre  and  the  cold  where 
grace  is  to  be  united  with  sweetness.  This  seems  to  be 
occasioned  by  a  want  of  harmony  between  the  just  height 
and  roundness  of  the  forms  —  from  an  absence  of  those 
firm,  yet  gracious  contours,  meeting,  yet  eluding  the  eye, 
rounded  into  life  and  dissolving  in  the  animated  marble, 
which  render,  for  instance,  the  Medicean  so  incomparably 


104 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


superior  to  the  Venus  of  Canova.  Throughout  the  whole 
of  this  class,  there  frequently  runs  a  character  of  compo- 
sition too  ornate  —  too  elaborately  pleasing,  and  which 
would  appear  still  more  decidedly,  were  it  not  accompanied 
by  inimitable  ease,  and  were  not  every  part,  even  to  the 
minutest  ornament,  an  emanation  of  the  same  refined 
taste  and  cultivated  mind.  It  is  this,  chiefly,  which 
spreads  their  delightful  charm  of  consistency  over  these 
works ;  there  is,  on  close  examination,  little  derived  im- 
mediately and  simply  from  nature.  Every  choice  has 
finally,  but  not  obviously,  been  determined  after  much 
thought  and  many  trials.  All  is  that  perfection  of  art,  by 
which  art  itself  is  best  concealed,  and  which  to  its  crea- 
tions lends  the  enchantment  of  nature's  own  sweetest 
graces. 

In  the  monumental  series  of  works,  Canova  displays  all 
the  practical  excellences  of  his  genius,  with  more,  perhaps, 
of  originality  and  simplicity  than  generally  characterise 
his  other  labours.  This  class  consists  of  architectural 
elevations,  supporting  colossal  statues,  and  of  tablets  in 
relievo.  Of  the  former,  the  tombs  of  the  Popes  at  Rome, 
of  Alfieri  at  Florence,  and  of  the  Archduchess  Maria 
Christina  at  Vienna,  are  magnificent  examples.  The 
second  constitutes  a  numerous  and  very  beautiful  class, 
which,  though  composed  of  nearly  the  same  simple  ele- 
ments of  design,  a  female  figure,  or  a  genius,  in  basso 
relievo,  mourning  over  a  bust  or  an  urn,  yet  exhibit  much 
diversity  of  character  and  arrangement  From  each  of 
these  an  example  might  be  selected  in  the  tomb  of  the 
Archduchess,  and  the  grand  relievo  of  the  O'Hara  family 
mourning  over  the  funereal  couch  of  the  deceased  daughter 
and  wife  —  equal  to  anything  in  the  whole  compass  of  art. 
To  those  who  deny  the  merit  of  Canova  in  relief,  we 
recommend  the  study  of  this  monument.    The  former, 


SCULPTURE. 


105 


representing  a  procession  bearing  to  the  tomb  the  ashes 
of  the  dead,  is  one  of  the  most  arduous  and  noblest  com- 
positions extant;  and,  judging  from  our  own  impressions, 
no  record  of  mortality  ever  better  accomplished  its  pur- 
pose, whether  to  awaken  regret  for  departed  virtue,  or  to 
tell,  by  its  own  perfection,  that  in  man  there  exists  an 
intelligence  which  shall  survive  beyond  the  grave. 

Although,  from  the  series  of  works  briefly  mentioned, 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove  Canova  the  most  indefat- 
igable — -  nor,  when  we  consider  their  influence,  the  prin- 
ciples they  are  calculated  to  enforce,  and  the  fallen  state 
from  which  they  rescued  art,  the  most  respectable  —  of 
modern  sculptors ;  yet,  in  estimating  truly  the  rank  and 
constituents  of  his  genius,  there  is  no  small  difficulty. 
The  very  fertility  of  that  genius,  diffusing  its  richness 
over  every  province  of  the  art,  and,  in  each  varied  exer- 
cise, constantly  displaying  the  same  judgment  and  taste, 
increases  this  difficulty,  by  blending  into  one  harmonious 
and  regular  effect,  those  outbreakings  of  peculiar  energies 
usually  accompanying,  and  indicative  of,  great  powers. 
Hence  the  character  of  his  mind  might  be  pronounced,  at 
first,  as  distinguished  rather  by  correctness  than  by  force. 
Yet,  of  his  talents  generally,  such  would  be  an  erroneous 
estimate.  His  mind  was  deeply  embued  with  both  fire 
and  enthusiasm  ;  his  imagination,  uncommonly  active,  was 
stored  with  materials,  but  over  the  treasures  thus  lavishly 
poured  forth  by  fancy,  severe  scrutiny  was  held  by  the 
understanding.  Energetic,  and  eveji  rapid,  in  composi- 
tion, in  correcting,  and  finally  determining,  he  wTas  slow 
and  fastidious — often  changing,  but  always  improving. 
Such  intellectual  organization  is  by' no  means  favorable  to 
that  grandeur  usually  associated  with  highest  genius,  which 
frequently  hurrying  alike  the  artist  and  spectator  beyond 
reality,  derives  its  very  mastery  from  daring  disregard  of 


106 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


rule,  grasping,  with  dangerous  hardihood,  those  lofty 
graces,  pardoned  only  when  successful ;  and  even  then, 
however  they  may  elevate  the  individual  subject  or  artist, 
not  enriching  art  with  useful  examples  or  solid  acquisi- 
tions. But  a  mind  thus  constituted  was  eminently  fitted 
for  correcting  public  taste,  especially  in  the  serene  majes- 
ty, the  orderly  magnificence,  which  compose  the  true 
grandeur  of  Sculpture.  Hence  Canova  is  uniformly  dig- 
nified and  consistent ;  correct  without  coldness,  if  he 
rarely  attains  the  highest  sublimity ;  neither  does  he  fall 
beneath  himself,  nor  into  the  extravagant.  Compared  with 
the  ancients,  many  of  his  works  remind  us  of  more  than 
merely  casual  imitation ;  but  it  is  no  less  true,  that  in 
others  of  novel  invention,  he  has  applied,  in  not  unsuc- 
cessful rivalry,  their  own  principles,  the  discovery  of  which 
forms  his  highest  praise,  as  constituting  one  of  the  most 
essential  services  ever  rendered  to  Sculpture.  Among 
the  moderns  he  claims  pre-eminence,  as  the  first  who  es- 
tablished improvement  upon  genuine  and  universal  pre- 
cepts of  art. 

The  perfection  to  which  Canova  seems  to  have  aspired 
in  the  ideal,  appears  to  have  been  the  union  of  the  two 
elements  of  sculptural  design,,  keeping  each  in  just  subor- 
dination to  beauty.  Hence,  in  his  figures,  form  does  not, 
as  in  the  antique,  constitute  so  entirely  the  primary,  and 
almost  sole  thought,  neither  is  it  so  much  subservient  to 
action  and  effect,  as  in  the  most  eminent  of  the  modern 
masters.  In  like  manner,  the  expression  holds  an  inter- 
mediate character  between  the  unmoved  serenity  of  the 
ancients,  and  the  marked  lineaments  of  Michael  Angelo. 
In  some  instances  this  union  is  very  happily  accomplished  ; 
but  generally,  though  always  true,  the  expression  is  not 
often  simple.  The  only  defect  which  can  be  discerned 
in  Canova' s  selection  of  form,  and  which  is  more  espe- 


SCULPTURE. 


107 


cially  to  be  found  in  his  female,  is  a  meagreness  and  want 
of  vigour ;  sometimes  they  too  much  remind  us  of  the  in- 
dividual model,  and  of  those  manners  of  life  whence 
such  models  are  usually  obtained.  But  speaking  univer- 
sally, the  contours  of  this  master  are  full,  flowing,  and 
well  sustained.  And  here  we  can  discover  the  same  prin- 
ciples of  design  and  practice  which  were  pointed  out  in 
the  best  era  of  the  Grecian  schools,  with  this  novel  pre- 
cept, the  discovery,  or  at  least  uniformly  successful  appli- 
cation, of  which  belongs  to  Canova,  namely,  that  all 
grand  parts  may  be  resolved  into  a  primary  and  two 
secondary  forms.  As  this  ternary  combination  is  sweetly, 
yet  decidedly  marked,  blending  yet  separating  its  consti- 
tuent lines,  the  graceful  ease  and  infinite  variety  of  natu- 
ral outline  is  obtained.  In  every  statue  of  the  modern, 
also,  we  find  exemplified  the  principle  adopted  from  Phi- 
dias, and  already  noticed,  namely,  that  from  whatever  re- 
sources of  imagination  any  figure  may  be  composed,  the 
final  surface  —  all  that  meets  the  eye  at  last  —  must  be 
finished,  and  faithfully  imitated  from  individual  nature. 

There  is  still  one  characteristic  which  pre-eminently 
distinguishes  those  works  we  are  examining,  namely,  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  composition.  They  unite  the  dexterity 
and  force  which  constituted  the  peculiar  praise  of  the 
masters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  with  a  delicacy,  a  refine- 
ment, and  truth,  exclusively  their  own.  This  is  an  excel- 
lence of  the  highest  import  —  not  so  much  in  itself  as  in 
its  consequences  —  for  it  can  be  introduced  with  good 
effect  only  when  the  nobler  elements  of  composition  are 
present.  A  statue  defective  in  the  higher  qualities  of  art, 
would  by  high  finish  become  only  the  more  ungracious : 
works  of  unblemished  merit  only  admit  with  advantage  of 
elaborate  technicality.  Hence,  among  the  ancients,  the 
perfect  statues,  in  all  other  respects,  are  also  the  most 


108 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


highly  wrought.  This  excellence  Canova  seems  to  have 
been  the  first  to  remark  and  to  emulate,  which  he  has 
done  successfully,  especially  in  the  most  difficult  parts  — 
the  extremities. 

In  short,  when  we  view  Canova  in  himself  and  in  his 
works  singly,  isolated  from  the  age  that  preceded,  and 
separated  from  that  which  now  follows  his  own,  in  con- 
centrated energy  and  originality  of  mind,  he  may  hardly 
compare  with  Donatello,  still  less  with  Buonarotti,  perhaps 
not  with  our  own  Flaxman ;  but  when  we  estimate  his 
genius  in  the  varied,  yet  uniform  excellence  of  his  labours, 
in  the  principles  upon  which  these  are  conducted,  —  when 
we  recollect  the  state  of  degradation  in  which  he  found, 
and  the  elevated  condition  in  which  he  left  art ;  and  re- 
member, too,  that  his  own  works  and  practice  between 
these  extremes,  were  marked  by  no  false  splendors  of 
talent,  but  must  prove  a  shining  light,  guiding  to  yet  higher 
attainment ;  we  must  pronounce,  in  truth  and  gratitude, 
that  none  other  name  is  in  merit  so  inseparably  associated 
with  the  progress  of  sculpture. 

Sinde  the  death  of  his  illustrious  contemporary,  Thor- 
waldsen,  born  at  Copenhagen,  1771-2,  has  occupied  the 
public  eye  as  head  of  the  modern  school.  The  character 
and  powers  of  this  master  are  doubtless  of  a  very  elevated 
rank ;  but  neither  in  the  extent  nor  excellence  of  his 
works,  do  we  apprehend  his  station  to  be  so  high  as  some- 
times placed.  The  genius  of  the  Danish  sculptor  is  for- 
cible, yet  is  its  energy  derived  more  from  peculiarity  than 
from  real  excellence.  His  ideal  springs  less  from  imitation 
of  the  antique,  or  of  nature,  than  from  the  workings  of  his 
own  individual  mind  —  it  is  the  creation  of  a  fancy  seek- 
ing forcible  effect  in  singular  combinations,  rather  than  in 
general  principles  ;  therefore  hardly  fitted  to  excite  lasting 
or  beneficial  influence  upon  the  age.    Simplicity  and  im- 


SCULPTURE. 


109 


posing  expression  seem  to  have  hitherto  formed  the  prin- 
cipal objects  of  his  pursuit ;  but  the  distinction  between 
the  simple  and  rude,  the  powerful  and  the  exaggerated,  is 
not  always  observed  in  the  labours  of  the  Dane.  His  sim- 
plicity is  sometimes  without  grace  ;  the  impressive  — 
austere,  and  without  due  refinement.  The  air  and  con- 
tours of  his  heads,  except,  as  in  the  Mercury  —  an  excel- 
lent example  both  of  the  beauties  and  defects  of  the  artist's 
style  —  when  immediately  derived  from  antiquity,  though 
grand  and  vigorous,  seldom  harmonize  in  the  principles  of 
these  efforts  with  the  majestic  regularity  of  general  nature. 
The  forms,  again,  are  not  unfrequently  poor,  without  vig- 
orous rendering  of  the  parts,  and  destitute  at  times  of  their 
just  roundness.  These  defects  may  in  some  measure  have 
arisen  from  the  early  and  more  frequent  practice  of  the 
artist  in  relievos.  In  this  department,  Thorwaldsen  is  un- 
exceptionably  to  be  admired.  The  Triumph  of  Alexander, 
originally  intended  for  the  frieze  of  the  government  palace 
at  Milan,  notwithstanding  an  occasional  poverty  in  the 
materials  of  thought,  is,  as  a  whole,  one  of  the  grandest 
compositions  in  the  world  ;  while  the  delicacy  of  execution, 
and  poetic  feeling,  in  the  two  exquisite  pieces  of  Night 
and  Aurora,  leave  scarcely  a  wish  here  ungratified.  But 
in  statues,  Thorwaldsen  excels  only  where  the  forms  and 
sentiment  admit  of  uncontrolled  imagination,  or  in  which 
no  immediate  recourse  can  be  had  to  fixed  standards  of 
taste,  and  to  the  simple  effects  of  nature.  Hence,  of  all 
his  works,  as  admitting  of  unconfined  expression,  and 
grand  peculiarity  of  composition,  the  statues  of  the  Apostles, 
considered  in  themselves,  are  the  most  excellent.  Thor- 
waldsen, in  fine,  possesses  singular,  but  in  some  respects 
erratic  genius.  His  ideas  of  composition  are  irregular; 
his  powers  of  fancy  surpass  those  of  execution ;  his  con- 
ceptions seem  to  lose  a  portion  of  their  value  and  fresh- 
10 


110 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ness  in  the  act  of  realisement.  As  an  individual  artist, 
he  will  command  deservedly  a  high  rank  among  the  names 
that  shall  go  down  to  posterity.  As  a  sculptor,  who  will 
influence,  or  has  extended  the  principles  of  the  art,  his 
pretensions  are  not  great ;  or,  should  this  influence  and 
these  claims  not  be  thus  limited,  the  standard  of  genuine 
and  universal  excellence  must  be  depreciated  in  a  like 
degree. 

We  have  hitherto  made  little  or  no  mention  of  British 
sculpture,  for  two  reasons.  The  number  of  ancient  monu- 
ments of  the  art  with  which  the  cathedrals  of  England, 
and  Westminster  Abbey  in  particular,  are  ornamented,  is 
considerable  :  yet  very  little  is  known  regarding  their 
authors.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  by  far 
the  greater  part  are  the  work  of  foreigners,  members  of 
those  confraternities  of  itinerant  artists,  which  have  been 
noticed  as  existing  in  Italy  so  early  as  the  middle  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  This  opinion  is  corroborated  by  the 
circumstance,  that  the  object  in  these  societies  was  to  un- 
dertake buildings  in  whatever  country,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose were  composed  of  architects,  sculptors,  workers  in 
mosaic,  builders,  designers,  each  strictly  attending  to  his 
own  department,  except  the  architect,  who  seems  to  have 
acted  as  the  general  overseer.  Thus,  companies  of  indi- 
viduals, more  or  less  numerous,  were  engaged  by  the  pro- 
per ecclesiastical  authorities,  wherever  a  building  of  mag- 
nitude was  to  be  erected.  Of  this,  the  plan  appears 
uniformly  to  have  been  prescribed  by  the  ecclesiastics,  the 
foreign  masters  superintending  and  availing  themselves  of 
local  assistants  for  the  mere  workmanship.  Again,  be- 
tween the  early  productions  of  sculpture  in  England,  when 
these  first  attract  notice  by  their  excellence,  we  very  de- 
cidedly trace  the  style,  and  in  some  instances,  as  in  the 
beautiful  monuments  of  Eleanor,  queen  of  Edward  L,  the 


SCULPTURE. 


Ill 


designs  of  the  school  of  Pisa.  About  this  time,  the  very 
improvements  introduced  by  Giovanni  da  Pisa,  son  of 
Nicolo,  especially  in  the  drapery,  are  decidedly  apparent 
in  those  and  other  English  works.  Hence,  although  we 
find  English  names  mentioned  as  masters  of  the  works  in 
several  of  our  most  splendid  erections,  and  even  in  one 
instance  as  sculpturing  the  images  of  saints,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  they  were  not  the  ecclesiastics  directly  employed 
by  the  chapter  to  communicate  their  plans  to  the  actual 
artificers.  But  it  must  also  be  observed,  that  the  natural 
consequence  of  introducing  foreign  art  would  be  to  create 
native  artists.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  therefore,  that 
many  of  the  really  fine  monuments  of  our  Henrys  and 
Edwards,  during^  the  fifteenth  century,  are  the  works  of 
home-bred  talent.  During  the  sixteenth  century,  again, 
we  do  certainly  know  that  two  Italian  sculptors,  Cavallini, 
and  especially  the  celebrated  Torregiano,  were  in  Eng- 
land, when  the  latter  erected  the  monument  in  Henry 
VII. 's  chapel,  for  which  he  received  so  large  a  sum  as  a 
thousand  pounds.  Henry  VIII.,  again,  had  for  his  master 
of  works  an  Italian  sculptor,  John  of  Padua,  scholar  of 
Michael  Angelo.  In  1615,  we  at  length  find  a  work 
erected  by  an  Englishman,  the  monument  of  the  '  good 
Thomas  Sutton,'  by  Nicholas  Stone ;  and,  towards  the 
conclusion  of  the  same  era,  lived  Francis  Bird,  a  native  of 
London,  whose  labours,  however,  only  show  the  miserable 
state  of  art.  Sculpture  has  never  been  practised  as  a 
separate  branch  in  the  early  history  of  Scotland,  who  ap- 
pears to  have  obtained  her  masters  rather  from  France 
than  Italy.  In  both  countries,  our  first  historians  have 
been  most  culpably  remiss  in  attention  to  the  progress  of 
native  arL  On  the  present  occasion,  to  attempt  a  detailed 
account  of  the  scattered  notices  they  have  left  us,  or,  what 
might  prove  still  more  satisfactory,  an  examination  of  the 


112 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


rich  remains  we  possess,  would  be  irrelevant,  as  we  touch 
merely  upon  the  general  history  of  the  arts,  in  which  our 
own  isolated  labours,  even  at  best,  form  only  an  episode. 

Not  till  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  last  century  can 
there  properly  be  said  to  have  existed  a  school  of  British 
sculpture.  Cibber,  Roubilac,  Scheemakers,  Carlini,  Lo- 
catelli,  Rysbrack  —  all  the  sculptors  who  flourished  in 
England  during  the  greater  part  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, were  foreigners.  It  is  well  that  the  fame  of  our 
good  and  our  brave  finds  a  memorial  in  the  records  of 
history,  and  in  the  breasts  of  their  countrymen,  more  wor- 
thy of  their  virtues  than  these  men  have  often  erected,  in 
the  noblest,  too,  of  our  temples.  Now,  British  worth  can 
be  commemorated  by  British  art.  Our  native  school  of 
Sculpture  may  be  considered  as  commencing  with  Banks, 
born  in  1738,  died  in  1805 ;  for  Wilton,  as  an  artist,  was 
educated  abroad.  In  power  of  modelling  few  have  ex- 
celled Banks,  whose  name  merits  eulogium,  and  is  men- 
tioned by  foreign  writers  as  among  the  very  few  at  Rome, 
who,  previous  to  the  appearance  of  Canova,  presented  in 
their  works  the  dawnings  of  reviving  art.  Bacon,  born 
in  1740,  was  in  every  respect  an  English  artist,  and  we  may 
almost  say  self-taught.  In  simplicity  his  works  have  great 
merit ;  they  are  often  wanting  in  feeling.  Bacon  was  not 
unacquainted  with  the  literature  of  his  art.  Proctor  and 
Deare  died  too  early  for  the  arts,  after  they  had  given,  evi- 
dence of  the  highest  abilities.  Deare  has  indeed  left 
works,  young  as  he  was,  not  surpassed  by  any  in  modern 
art.  We  approach  our  more  immediate  contemporaries 
with  respectful  diffidence,  and  shall  touch  only  upon  the 
merits  of  those  who  are  removed  from  the  effects  of  praise 
or  censure.  Nollekins  knew  his  art,  but  wanted  science, 
dignity,  and  fancy.  Flaxman  belongs  to  posterity,  and 
has  more  widely  extended  the  influence  of  his  genius  — 


SCULPTURE.  113 

more  intimately  connected  his  labours  with  general  im- 
provement, than  any  other  English  sculptor.  Towards 
the  propitious  revolution  which  rescued  the  arts  from  utter 
imbecility,  in  the  latter  end  of  last  century,  he  largely 
contributed,  by  his  learned,  powerful,  and  simple  style. 
From  1787  to  1794,  he  continued  in  Italy  ;  and  had  his 
sojourn  been  longer,  he  would  have  divided  not  unequal 
honors  with  the  great  reformer  of  taste.  This  is  known  and 
acknowledged  by  the  intelligent  critics  of  that  country,  of 
whom  one  of  the  most  judicious,  Count  Cicognara,  thus 
writes  :  — '  To  Flaxman  our  obligations  are  very  great, 
since,  as  far  as  our  acquaintance  with  his  works  extends, 
they  served  nobly  to  elevate  from  a  certain  monotonous  leth- 
argy,and  to  create  afresh,  that  taste  for  the  severe  and  golden 
style  of  antiquity,  which  he  applied  to  his  own  inventions.' 
From  his  youth,  Flaxman  was  distinguished  by  the  strength 
of  his  genius,  by  devotion  to  the  study  of  the  ancient 
models,  and  by  fearless  but  judicious  disregard  of  those 
conventional  affectations  by  which  art  was  disgraced. 
He  was  among  the  first,  if  not  the  earliest,  to  awaken  the 
long  dormant  energies  of  sculpture,  to  unite  anew  art 
with  nature.  The  simple  and  the  grand  of  antiquity  he 
made  his  own ;  nor,  since  the  best  ages  of  Greece,  do  we 
anywhere  find,  in  the  works  mentioned  in  these  pages, 
greater  meaning,  more  deep  feeling  of  truth,  with  less 
pomp  of  art,  than  in  the  sculpture  of  Flaxman.  The 
wonderful  designs  from  Homer,  the  statues  of  Mr  Pitt 
and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  the  monuments  of  Montague, 
Howe,  and  Nelson,  the  group  of  Michael  and  Satan,  will 
alone  fully  justify  this  character.  If,  in  the  works  of  this 
master,  a  defect  may  be  pointed  out,  it  is  an  excess  of  the 
severe  and  simple,  which  nearly  approaches  to  harshness. 
Surpassing  both  Canova  and  Thorwaldsen  in  the  loftiness 
of  his  conceptions,  and  perhaps  in  classic  purity  of  taste, 
10* 


114 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


in  the  graces  of  composition,  and  the  facilities  of  model- 
ling, he  is  inferior  to  the  former.  But  in  all  that  consti- 
tutes the  epic  of  the  art,  Flaxman  is  not  surpassed. 

We  must  omit  with  regret,  though  not  unadmired,  the 
names  of  living  English  artists.  To  their  honor  be  it 
remarked,  that,  at  this  moment,  in  rectitude  and  sobriety 
of  precept,  in  the  walk  which  has  hitherto  been  followed, 
where  nothing  is  yet  to  be  unlearned,  and  which  must 
infallibly  conduct  to  higher  perfection,  no  school  in  Eu- 
rope can  boast  of  happier  auspices,  of  more  vigorous  prac- 
tice, nor  of  sounder  principles,  than  the  British  school  of 
Sculpture.  In  Italy,  the  numerous  —  we  may  say  uni- 
versal —  imitators  of  Canova,  appear  to  be  following,  with 
exaggerated  effect,  the  only  failing  towards  which  his  style 
inclines  —  elaborate  grace.  In  Germany,  the  art  lan- 
guishes for  want  of  encouragement.  Sculpture  is  more 
pre-eminently  the  nursling  of  freedom.  The  French 
sculptors  are,  at  the  present  time,  more  distinguished  for 
science  than  for  feeling  or  invention.  They  want  individ- 
uality of  character  in  their  works ;  the  symmetry  and  pro- 
portions, the  mechanical  art  of  antiquity,  their  chisel  has 
transferred,  —  but  the  sentiment,  the  essence  which  unites 
art  with  nature,  which  breathes  into  Grecian  statuary  the 
breath  of  life,  has  escaped.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  that 
from  the  school  formed  under  the  empire,  while  the  most 
valued  treasures  of  existing  art  were  collected  in  the 
French  capital,  not  a  sculptor,  hardly  one  artist  of  emi- 
nence, has  issued.  The  cause  is  plain.  These  monu- 
ments were  torn  from  their  resting  places  by  the  hand  of 
violence ;  they  were  viewed  by  a  vain  and  mistaken  peo- 
ple as  the  trophies  of  victory ;  but  they  were  never  vene- 
rated with  that  enthusiastic  yet  humble  devotion,  with 
which  the  disciple  regards  the  sources  of  knowledge. 
During  a  shorter  period,  how  different  have  been  the  effects 


SCULPTURE. 


115 


of  our  own  unsullied  and  bloodless  collection.  Since  the 
public  exposition  of  the  Phidian  Marbles,  in  particular, 
every  department  of  taste  has  been  improved,  and  every 
artist  has  been  ready  to  exclaim,  with  the  late  venerable 
president,  that  till  he  saw  these  works,  he  was  ignorant 
how  much  of  his  art  he  had  yet  to  learn.  Let  the  British 
sculptor,  then,  continue  in  the  same  principles  as  have 
heretofore  guided  his  practice ;  let  him  follow  nature,  and 
these  the  noblest  remains  of  art  in  existence,  and  he  must 
excel.  Sculpture  seems  especially  calculated  to  flourish 
amongst  us.  The  grave  and  manly  character  of  the  art 
agrees  with  the  tone  of  national  genius,  harmonizes  with 
our  free  institutions,  and  may  find  in  our  history  sources 
of  the  brightest  inspiration. 


THE  FINE  ARTS- 


painting. 


CHAPTER  X. 

In  the  present  undertaking,  two  methods  of  arrange- 
ment are  obviously  presented  :  either  to  treat  the  arts  sim- 
ultaneously ;  or,  considering  each  in  succession,  to  com- 
mence with  that  one  which  seemed  best  adapted  to  illus- 
trate the  history  and  common  principles  of  all.  With  this 
view  we  have,  in  the  commencement,  followed  the  for- 
tunes of  Sculpture  at  some  length,  because  here  we  find 
an  uninterrupted  series  of  monuments ;  here  the  elements 
of  imitative  art  are  discoverable  in  their  purest  and  least 
compounded  character ;  and  also  because  in  Sculpture- 
the  labours,  being  enduring,  of  greater  magnitude,  and 
more  generally  employed  for  national  purposes  than  those 
of  Painting,  seem  more  clearly  to  illustrate  the  connexion 
which  will  ever  be  found  to  subsist  between  the  refine- 
ment of  taste  and  the  progress  of  moral  and  political 
intelligence,  as  affects  nations,  or  the  human  race  uni- 
versally. This  is  the  truly  dignified  object  in  the  history 
of  the  fine  arts.    In  this  respect  our  inquiries  have  been 


118 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


most  satisfactorily  resolved.  We  have  found  the  state  of 
sculpture  an  index  of  the  moral  and  political  condition  of 
the  people  ;  owing  its  best  cultivation  to  national  and 
popular  causes.  We  have  seen  it  languish  or  revive  ac- 
cording to  the  energy  and  the  freedom  of  national  insti- 
tutions. The  epochs  of  painting  were  nearly  or  alto- 
gether the  same,  as  were  also  those  of  architecture.  The 
conclusions,  then,  are  universal.  Little,  therefore,  remains 
to  be  explained  in  painting,  save  its  own  peculiarities  as 
an  individual  art. 

Painting,  which  depends  upon  illusion  for  some  of  its 
most  striking  efTects,  and  employs  principles  abstractly 
unreal,  is,  in  the  application  of  these  principles,  and  in 
the  full  accomplishment  of  their  effects,  an  art  of  greater 
difficulty  than  Sculpture.  Hence,  a  priori,  it  might  be 
inferred,  that  the  former  would  more  slowly  attain  to  the 
perfection  which  it  reached  among  the  nations  of  the  an- 
cient world.  But  perhaps  it  would  hardly  have  been  pre- 
dicted, that,  in  the  age  of  Phidias,  when  sculpture  had 
already  been  raised  to  an  elevation  yet  un approached,  the 
sister  art  should  still  be  little  advanced.  At  the  same 
time,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  elements  of  both 
arts  have  in  all  countries  sprung  up  together.  Nature  has 
sown  the  seed,  but  circumstances  nourish  the  plants. 

Among  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  Asia,  painting  and 
writing  appear  to  have  been  the  same  art,  or  rather,  the 
former  supplied  the  place  of  the  latter.  From  the  same 
source  the  art  arose  in  Egypt,  where  are  still  to  be  found 
its  oldest  remains.  In  this  branch  the  mental  and  politi- 
cal despotism  already  explained,  bound  down  every  aspi- 
ration. Whether  we  regard  the  art  as  picture  writing,  or 
in  its  more  determinate  and  independent  efforts  at  repre- 
sentation, we  discover  no  change  —  no  progressive  im- 
provement, and  no  superiority  which  has  not  evidently 


PAINTING. 


119 


arisen  from  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  care  and  personal 
skill  in  the  performer.  Egyptian  painting  seldom,  if  ever, 
attempts  more  than  an  outline  of  the  object,  as  seen  in 
profile,  such  as  would  be  obtained  by  its  shadow.  To 
this  rude  but  always  well-proportioned  draught,  colors 
are  applied,  simply  and  without  mixture  or  blending,  or 
the  slightest  indication  of  light  and  shade.  The  process 
appears  to  have  been,  first,  the  preparation  of  the  ground 
in  white ;  next,  the  outline  was  firmly  traced  in  black ; 
and,  lastly,  the  flat  colors  were  applied.  The  Egyptian 
artists  employed  six  pigments,  mixed  up  with  a  gummy 
liquid,  namely,  white,  black,  red,  blue,  yellow,  and  green: 
the  three  first  always  earthy,  the  remaining  vegetable,  or 
at  least  frequently  transparent.  The  specimens  from 
which  we  derive  these  facts,  are  the  painted  shrouds  and 
cases  of  the  mummies,  and  the  still  more  perfect  exam- 
ples on  the  walls  of  the  tombs.  It  can  furnish  no  evi- 
dence of  extraordinary  experience  or  practice,  that  these 
paintings  still, retain  their  hues  clear  and  fresh.  The  cir- 
cumstance merely  shows  the  aridity  of  the  climate,  and 
that  the  coloring  matters  were  prepared  and  applied  pure 
and  without  admixture. 

Over  no  part  of  ancient  intellectual  history  hangs  there 
so  great  uncertainty,  respecting  at  least  the  means  and 
progressive  steps,  as  in  the  instance  of  Painting  in  Greece. 
We  can  judge  here  only  from  inference,  while  the  facts 
upon  which  our  conclusions  must  rest,  are  in  some  de- 
gree contradictory.  No  production  of  the  Grecian  pen- 
cil remains  to  us,  as  in  sculpture,  whence  to  form  our  own 
judgment  apart  from  the  opinions  of  ancient  critics ;  while 
there  is  internal  evidence,  that  the  historical  annals  handed 
down  to  us,  imperfect  as  these  now  are,  have  been  com- 
piled, not  from  authentic  materials  early  collected,  but 
from  recollection  of  names  to  whom  discoveries  are  by 


120 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  later  historian  casually  attributed.  The  whole  ac- 
count of  early  painting  is  too  regular,  too  systematic,  the 
progressive  advances  follow  each  other  in  an  order  too 
artificial  to  represent  faithfully  the  alternate  failure  and 
success,  the  devious  course,  the  rapid  and  almost  inexpli- 
cable advance  of  genius.  The  young  eagle  tempts  not 
the  liquid  way  in  steady  flight,  commensurate  only  with 
his  strength  —  he  flutters  and  falls  —  wavers  in  broken 
and  ungraceful  curves,  before  he  can  launch  into  full  ca- 
reer, or  circle  slowly  and  majestically  in  his  pride  of 
place. 

We  do  not  doubt,  then,  that  the  names  of  the  earliest 
painters  handed  down  to  us  in  the  Greek  and  Roman  wri- 
ters, are  correct ;  but  the  system  of  gradual  and  regular 
advance  which  they  have  connected  with  these  names, 
seems  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  human  things.  In 
this  case,  the  only  safe  method  that  can  be  adopted,  con- 
sistently with  the  intention  of  giving  every  useful  infor- 
mation, is  to  select  a  few  leading  and  well  ascertained 
dates,  between  which  it  is  proved  that  certain  discoveries 
did  take  place  ;  the  interval  will  thus  be  sufficiently  filled 
up  without  entering  into  minute  discussion.  Anticipating 
this  arrangement,  we  have  been  full  in  our  account  of  the 
early  schools  of  sculpture,  whence  the  deficiency  here 
may  be  supplied ;  for  in  both  arts,  the  locality  is  always, 
and  the  masters  frequently,  the  same. 

The  first  painting  on  record  is  the  battle  of  Magnete, 
by  Bularchus,  and  purchased  by  Candaules,  king  of  Lydia, 
for  its  weight  in  gold,  or  as  some  say,  a  quantity  of  gold 
coins  equal  to  the  extent  of  its  surface.  This  establishes 
the  first  era,  718  B.  C.  During  five  centuries,  however, 
the  art  had  previously  flourished  in  the  cities  and  islands, 
and  especially  at  Corinth,  whose  situation,  commanding 
the  two  seas  that  wash  the  shores,  and  connecting  by  land 


PAINTING. 


121 


the  grand  divisions,  of  Greece,  early  rendered  that  city, 
with  the  commercial  states  already  noticed,  the  seat  of 
wealth  and  refinement.  Practised  by  numerous  masters, 
—  as  Eucherus,  Hygenon,  Dymas,  Charamides,  Philocles, 
Cleanthes,  Cleophantes,  —  painting,  in  this  interval,  is 
reported  to  have  passed  through  various  gradations ;  as, 
simple  skiagraphy,  or  shadow  painting ;  the  monographic 
style,  consisting  of  a  simple  outline  ;  monochromatic  com- 
positions, in  which  one  color  only  was  employed ;  and 
polychromatic,  where  a  variety  of  hue,  but  without  shading, 
was  used.  During  the  same  time,  there  appear  accounts 
of  minor  improvements,  with  their  authors  assigned,  all 
of  which  we  reject,  as  already  stated.  In  what  manner 
the  work  of  Bularchus  was  executed,  does  not  appear ; 
but  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  merely  a 
monogram,  and,  from  the  contemporaneous  state  of  sculp- 
ture, very  highly  finished,  in  a  style  hard,  dry,  and  inef- 
fective. The  price  paid  is  by  no  means  the  criterion  of 
absolute  excellence  ;  — the  work  might  be  fully  prized  as 
the  master-piece  of  its  own  remote  age,  while  the  labo- 
rious minuteness  of  its  details  might  render  the  sum  not 
more  than  a  compensation  for  the  time  bestowed. 

To  select  a  second  era  sufficiently  marked  by  addition 
or  revolution  of  principle,  is  difficult.  To  the  age  of  Phi- 
dias, the  art  continued  certainly  to  improve,  but  very 
slowly,  being  left  far  in  the  rear  by  Sculpture.  The  ge- 
nius of  this  consummate  master,  who  indeed  had  origi- 
nally commenced  his  career  as  a  painter,  extended  to  all 
the  arts ;  and,  under  such  an  instructer,  his  brother  Pe- 
naenus,  very  highly  distinguished  himself,  though  vanquish- 
ed in  a  contest  for  the  public  prize,  then  instituted  at  Del- 
phos  and  Corinth.  From  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century, 
then,  a  decided  movement  commences  in  the  history  of 
painting,  —  a  preparation  for  something  still  greater.  The 
11 


122 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


influence  extended  among  the  able  contemporaries  of  the 
great  sculptor.  Polygnotus  of  Thasos  then  first  succeeded, 
to  borrow  a  phrase,  '  in  the  expression  of  undescribed 
being/  and  whose  pictures  Pliny  admired  six  hundred 
years  afterwards.  Improvement  was  carried  forward  for  half 
a  century  by  Mycon,  famous  in  horses ;  Pauson,  his  rival ; 
Dionysius  of  Colophon,  praised  by  ^Elian  for  minute  accu- 
racy ;  Aglaophon,  bold  and  energetic ;  Colotes,  sculptor 
and  painter  ;  Evenor,  father  of  Parrhasius ;  and  finally, 
greatest  of  all,  Apollodorus  the  Athenian,  who  invented 
or  perfected  the  knowledge  of  light  and  shade.  With 
this  artist,  the  precursor  and  contemporary  of  Zeuxis,  and 
whose  discovery  may  be  placed  about  the  commencement 
of  the  fourth  century  B.  C,  may  be  terminated  the  second 
era.  The  propriety  of  this  division  will  more  obviously 
appear,  when  it  is  considered  that  to  this  period,  not  only 
was  the  art  deficient  in  the  most  powerful  of  its  means, 
the  magic  of  chiar'  oscura,  but  also  in  its  instruments. 
The  ancient  paintings,  as  late  as  the  age  of  Phidias,  were 
executed  with  the  cestrum,  a  species  of  pliant  stylus,  sim- 
ilar to  that  used  in  writing.  This  is  the  diagraphic,  or 
linear  method,  and  seems  to  have  resembled  our  chalk 
and  crayon,  or  perhaps  more  closely  our  pen  and  reed 
drawing.  The  process,  however,  can  be  explained  only 
by  conjecture.  The  tablet,  primed  in  white,  was  laid 
over  with  a  varnish  of  resin  mixed  with  wax,  and  usually 
incorporated  with  a  dark-reddish  coloring  matter.  Upon 
this  the  subject  was  traced,  and  the  lights  worked  in  with 
the  cestrum  of  various  fineness.  At  what  precise  period 
this  imperfect  instrument  was  superseded  by  the  pencil,  or 
if  the  effects  of  the  two  were  combined,  is  unknown. 
But  the  invention  must  have  been  made  after  the  death 
of  Polygnotus,  and  prior  to  the  ninetythird  Olympiad,  a 
period  of  twenty  or  thirty  years,  when  Apollodorus  is 


PAINTING. 


123 


known  to  have  handled  the  pencil  with  great  effect.  It 
is  not  unlikely,  therefore,  that  this  artist  either  was  the 
inventor  or  the  improver  of  this  tool,  whose  mastery  so 
decidedly  ministered  to  his  reputation. 

The  third  period  commences  with  Zeuxis,  marking  an 
era  distinct  at  once  in  principle  and  in  excellence.  Pre- 
ceding masters  had  crowded  their  tablets  with  numerous 
figures.  He  introduced  simplicity  of  composition,  and 
relied  upon  the  perfection  frequently  of  a  single  figure  to 
concentrate  interest.  He  was  equally  simple  in  his  color- 
ing, never  using  more  than  four,  often  only  two  pigments. 
Parrhasius  equalled  the  former  in  expression,  and  seems 
to  have  surpassed  him  in  coloring.  Euphranor  was 
equally  celebrated  in  painting  as  in  statuary.  Both  were 
surpassed  by  Timanthes,  who,  in  veiling  the  head  of  a 
father  compelled  to  attend  the  sacrifice  of  his  daughter, 
appealed  to  the  heart  not  in  vain,  when  the  powers  of 
genius  had  failed.  Eupompus,  by  the  splendour  of  his 
style,  gave  rise  to  a  new  distinction  of  schools  into  the 
Athenian  and  Sicyonian,  in  addition  to  the  Asiatic,  the 
Rhodian,  and  the  Corinthian.  Theon  of  Samos  obtained 
high  praise  for  the  eager  haste  of  his  young  warrior  to 
join  the  fight.  Aristides  of  Thebes,  in  his  picture  of  the 
wounded  mother,  solicitous,  in  the  pangs  of  death,  lest  her 
child  should  suck  blood,  appears  to  have  reached  the  ut- 
most range  of  expression  in  art.  And  lastly,  Pamphilus 
the  Macedonian,  eminent  for  the  natural  feeling  and  truth 
of  his  style,  was  the  master  of  Apelles.  This  era,  em- 
bracing about  the  first  half  of  the  fourth  century,  coincides 
with  the  commencement  of  the  Phidian  age  in  painting. 
Whatever  might  have  been  the  merits  of  preceding  mas- 
ters, Zeuxis  was  certainly  the  first  from  whose  works  we 
derive  explicit  statements  of  the  ideal  in  Grecian  painting. 
This  ideal,  as  in  their  sculpture,  was  immediately  derived 


124 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


from  reality;  it  was  no  farther  the  creation  of  fancy,  than 
as  taste  and  imagination  were  employed  in  selecting  and 
combining  what  was  good  in  particular,  towards  an  ap- 
proach to  the  best,  in  general  nature.  '  Behold,'  said 
Eupompus  to  Lysippus,  when  consulted  by  the  young 
sculptor  on  the  subject  of  imitation,  pointing  to  the  passing 
multitude,  '  Behold  my  models :  from  nature,  not  from 
art,  must  he  study,  who  aspires  to  the  true  excellence  of 
art.'  Zeuxis,  then,  first  discovered  or  practised  the  grand 
principle  in  the  heroic  style  of  painting,  -i-  to  render  each 
figure  the  perfect  representative  of  the  class  to  which  it 
belongs.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  also,  that  he  taught 
the  true  method  of  grouping  ;  at  least,  from  the  manner  of 
description  adopted  by  Pausanias,  it  would  evidently  seem 
that  in  all  pictures  anterior  to  this  age,  the  figures  were 
ran  ed  in  lines,  without  any  principal  group  on  which  the 
interest  of  the  event  was  concentrated.  Even  so  late  as 
the  works  of  Panoenus,  the  brother  of  Phidias,  the  differ- 
ent distances  were  represented  by  the  very  inartificial  and 
ungracious  means  of  placing  the  figures  in  rows  one  above 
the  other.  In  all  his  improvements,  Zeuxis  was  more 
than  followed  by  his  able  contemporaries.  It  is  a  singular 
and  an  amusing  fact,  that  at  no  time  do  we  find  more  real 
talent  in  art,  combined  with  so  much  ridiculous  coxcombry 
in  the  personal  character  of  artists. 

The  fourth  and  last  epoch  of  painting  in  Greece  com- 
mences with  Apelles,  about  the  conclusion  of  the  fourth 
century  B.  C.  This  age  witnessed,  both  the  glory  and  the 
fall  of  ancient  art.  Apelles  united,  in  his  own  style,  the 
scattered  excellences  which  had  separately  adorned  the 
performances  of  his  predecessors.  It  was  this  power  and 
equability  of  combination,  arranged  and  animated  by  an 
elegance  and  refinement  of  taste  peculiarly  his  own,  which 
constituted  the  just  eminence  of  this  master.    From  the 


PAINTING. 


125 


descriptions  of  ancient  writers,  the  character  of  his  style 
must  have  closely  resembled  that  of  Raphael,  while  their 
choice  of  subjects  appears  to  have  been  nearly  similar. 
The  Venus  of  Apelles,  long  afterwards  purchased  by  Au 
gustus  for  one  hundred  talents,  or  c£20,000  sterling,  was 
esteemed  the  most  faultless  creation  of  the  Grecian  pencil, 
the  most  perfect  example  of  that  simple  yet  unapproacha- 
ble grace  of  conception,  of  symmetry  of  form,  and  exquisite 
finish,  in  which  may  be  summed  up  the  distinctive  beau- 
ties of  his  genius.  He  alone  appears  to  have  practised 
portrait  painting  in  the  full  majesty  of  that  art ;  this,  in- 
deed, does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  branch  the  most 
cultivated  among  the  Greeks,  who  preferred  busts.  Hence, 
while  Pausanias  enumerates  eightyeight  masterpieces  of 
history,  he  mentions  only  half  the  number  of  portraits, 
which  he  had  seen  in  his  travels  through  Greece,  during 
the  second  century. 

The  contemporaries  of  Apelles  were  Protogenes,  an  ex- 
cellent artist,  whose  merits  his  generous  rival  first  pointed 
out.  He  was  blamed  for  finishing  too  highly  ;  yet,  to  ob- 
tain possession  of  one  of  his  pictures,  was  the  chief  cause 
of  the  siege  of  Rhodes.  Nicias,  who  is  reported  to  have 
touched  up  the  statues  of  Praxiteles  —  in  what  manner  is 
not  known,  nor  was  Canova  successful  in  his  researches 
on  this  subject.  Somewhat  later  lived  Nichomachus, 
Pausius,  iEtion,  the  Albano  of  antiquity,  and  others,  with 
whom  the  art  began  to  lapse.  The  causes  and  progress 
of  this  decline  have  already  been  traced  in  the  history  of 
sculpture.  The  remarks  there  are  applicable  to  both  arts, 
but  peculiar  circumstances  rendered  the  progress  of  decay 
more  rapid  in  painting.  Even  in  the  later  contempora- 
ries of  the  great  ornament  of  the  art,  we  discover  a  falling 
off  from  the  great  style,  to  one  exactly  resembling  that  of 
the  modern  Dutch  school.  Although  the  best  pictures, 
11* 


126 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


from  their  greater  rarity,  were  more  highly  valued  in  pe- 
cuniary estimation  than  statues,  yet  the  art  was  never  so 
completely  national  as  Sculpture.  The  ambition  was  not 
cherished,  nor  the  talents  of  painters  directed,  by  the  na- 
tionality of  their  performances;  the  general  taste  was  not 
fixed  by  public  and  venerated  monuments,  consequently 
the  wholesome  restraints  of  public  opinion  operated  but 
slightly,  and  were  speedily  withdrawn.  Be  it  also  remem- 
bered, that  the  standard  here  was  formed  after  the  severe 
purity  of  ancient  taste,  and  morals  had  suffered  sad  relax- 
ation. Hence  painting  was  sooner  abandoned  to  the  ca- 
price of  private  patronage  and  judgment ;  but  the  whole 
framework  of  her  institutions,  moral  and  political,  was  to 
be  dissolved  before  sculpture,  —  which  honored  the  forms 
of  her  religion  ;  whose  labours  were  publicly  dedicated  to 
the  renown  of  her  good,  her  learned,  and  her  brave,  — 
could  cease  to  be  regarded  with  national  sympathy  in 
Greece.  Pausanias  mentions  the  names  of  one  hundred 
and  sixtynine  sculptors,  and  only  fifteen  painters ;  while, 
after  three  centuries  of  spoliation,  he  found  in  Greece 
three  thousand  statues,  not  one  of  them  a  copy,  while  he 
describes  only  one  hundred  and  thirtyone  paintings.  The 
empire,  then,  of  ancient  painting,  appears  to  have  been  of 
brief  continuance,  for,  beyond  the  age  now  under  review, 
no  memorials  of  its  greatness  remain.  The  Romans 
prized  this,  as  they  have  been  shown  to  value  every  ac- 
complishment in  the  fine  arts,  as  ministering  to  luxury, 
and  as  a  worthy  employment  for  their  slaves.  In  the 
early  portion  of  their  iron  reign,  Etruscan  captives  deco- 
rated their  houses  —  subsequently  itinerant  Greeks ;  and 
though  we  find  a  few  names  of  Roman  painters,  we  never 
find  it  carried  among  them  beyond  mere  embellishment. 
The  moral  dignity  of  the  art  never  revived. 


PAINTING. 


127 


One  difficulty  regarding  the  history  of  ancient  painting 
still  remains  to  be  stated  —  satisfactorily  cleared  it  never 
can  be  —  namely,  the  perfection  to  which  the  art  actually 
attained.  It  has  been  said,  and  the  remark  is  just,  that 
there  exists  a  wide  disparity  between  the  means  and  in- 
struments of  the  art,  as  described  by  writers  of  antiquity, 
and  the  excellence  of  the  effects  produced,  as  these  have 
reached  us  through  the  same  channel.  We  have,  it  is 
replied,  the  criticisms  of  the  same  writers  upon  other  sub- 
jects of  taste,  with  the  originals  likewise  in  our  hands,  and 
finding  here  their  opinions  correct  —  not  only  so,  but  ex- 
quisitely correct  —  we  are  constrained  to  admit,  that  in 
painting  their  judgment  was  equally  refined  as  in  poetry, 
oratory,  sculpture,  or  architecture.  This  reasoning  may 
prove  relative,  but  not  absolute  excellence  ;  for  taste  being 
necessarily  formed  upon  the  very  models  on  which  it  passes 
sentence,  cannot  be  admitted  as  evidence  beyond  its  ex- 
perience. Our  own  conviction  is,  that,  unless  in  this 
view  of  merely  relative  beauty,  the  praises  bestowed  by 
the  Greek  and  Roman  writers  upon  their  paintings  are 
overcharged ;  and  that  these  were  much  inferior  to  their 
sculptures.  This  opinion  is  founded  not  upon  any  alleged 
inferiority  of  means,  for,  besides  the  difficulty  of  exactly 
comprehending  certain  passages  on  this  subject,  we  do 
find,  that  the 'ancient  artists  were  armed  with  all  the  pow- 
ers of  fresco-painting,  in  which  the  grandest  conceptions 
of  modern  talent  are  embodied.  But  these  very  descrip- 
tions, in  many  of  which  are  accounts  of  very  complicated 
expression,  show  that  the  writers,  and  especially  Pliny, 
the  most  circumstantial,  either  did  not  truly  feel  the  nature 
and  object  of  beauty  in  painting ;  or  they  evince,  that  if 
such  effects  were  attempted,  the  art  was  devoid  of  that 
simplicity  and  natural  expression  which  constitute  the 
primeval  source,  the  all-pervading  principle,  of  beauty  and 


128 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


of  grandeur,  of  truth  and  excellence,  in  antique  sculpture. 
But  again,  if,  from  the  few  and  very  imperfect  remains  of 
ancient  painting,  any  conclusion  be  allowed  in  reference 
to  its  higher  state,  we  discover  in  these  all  the  principles, 
especially  those  of  form,  common  to  sculpture,  always 
well,  often  admirably  understood,  while  those  peculiar  to 
painting  are  inartificially  expressed,  without  firmness  or 
decision. 

These  remains  consist,  first,  of  the  delineations  upon 
vases,  improperly  called  Etruscan,  where  the  pictorial 
representations  are  monochromatic  shadows  and  outline, 
or  monograms,  executed  with  the  cestrum,  or  style,  in 
black,  upon  a  red  or  yellow  ground,  or  sometimes  the 
order  of  the  colors  is  reversed.  Even  these  support  the 
views  just  stated  ;  for,  vigorous  as  are  the  lines,  the  rep- 
resentation, on  the  whole,  is  inferior  to  the  abstract  per- 
ception of  the  beautiful  in  form,  as  exhibited  in  the  vases 
hemselves.  The  second  division  of  remains  are  the  fres- 
cos, or  stucco  paintings  of  Herculaneum,  Pompeii,  Sta- 
bia  near  Naples,  and  those  in  the  baths  of  Titus  at  Rome. 
The  former  were  doubtless  executed  by  itinerant  Greek 
painters,  who  are  known  to  have  been  very  numerous 
under  the  empire.  The  latter  were  most  probably  the 
performance  of  the  best  artists  that  could  be  procured  ; 
ye  we  do  not  discover  an  intrinsic  difference  of  style 
which  can  bear  against  our  general  conclusion,  or  rather 
the  similarity  proves  the  fact,  while  in  Herculaneum  every 
sculptured  ornament  is  infinitely  more  elegant  than  the 
paintings  found  in  the  same  spot.  To  these  might  be 
added  some  very  imperfect  sepulchral  remains,  found  near 
Tarquinia,  which  merely  prove  that  the  ancient  Etrus- 
cans were  far  from  ignorant  of  painting.  In  the  pictures 
at  Naples  and  Rome,  is  greater  variety  of  coloring  than, 
from  some  passages  in  their  writings,  has  been  allowed  to 


PAINTING. 


129 


the  ancients.  And,  indeed,  unless  Pliny  be  supposed  to 
point  out  a  distinction  in  this  respect  between  the  prac- 
tice of  the  earlier  and  later  painters,  he  contradicts  him- 
self ;  for  in  all,  he  enumerates  no  less  than  five  different 
whites,  three  yellows,  nine  reds  or  purples,  two  blues,  one 
of  which  is  indigo,  two  greens,  and  one  black,  which 
also  appears  to  be  a  generic  expression,  including  bitu- 
men, charcoal,  ivory,  or  lamp-black,  mentioned  with  pro- 
bably others. 

Occasional  allusion  has  been  made  to  the  mechanical 
modes  of  operation  employed  in  ancient  painting.  On 
comparing  the  different  passages  allusive  to  these,  two 
things  certainly  appear  :  that  a  permanency  was  given  to 
its  productions  unknown  even  in  modern  art ;  and  that 
oil-painting,  properly  so  termed,  formed  no  part  of  its 
practice.  Laying  aside,  then,  all  conflicting  opinions,  we 
are  disposed  to  infer  that  there  were  three  principal  me- 
thods ;  first,  Distemper  employed  on  stuccoed  walls,  and 
for  pictures  not  moveable  ;  second,  Glazing,  when  the 
picture,  after  being  furnished  in  water-colours,  crayons,  or  * 
distemper,  was  covered  with  a  coat  of  hard  and  transpar- 
ent varnish,  of  which  several  kinds  are  described ;  and 
thirdly,  Encaustic,  when  the  coloring  matters  actually 
incorporated  with  wax,  or  preparations  of  wax,  were  thus 
applied  in  a  liquid  state,  and  when  finished,  allowed  to 
dry,  and  most  likely  afterwards  varnished  also.  In  these 
two  latter  methods  were  executed  the  most  excellent  pic- 
tures of  the  great  masters,  and  which  were  portable.  The 
last  has  given  rise  to  much  needless  discussion,  as  if  re- 
sembling enamel,  the  colors  being  burnt  in.  We  ap- 
prehend, however,  the  Greek  and  Latin  verb  here  used, 
merely  denotes  that  the  tints  were  laid  on  hot,  which, 
from  their  nature,  must  have  been  absolutely  necessary, 
while  it  is  evident,  from  scattered  hints,  that  the  material 
painted  upon  was  destructible  by  fire. 


130 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


CHAPTER  XL 


Fallen  as  was  every  liberal  pursuit  during  those  ages, 
since  emphatically  called  dark,  painting  was  yet  never 
unpractised  in  Europe.  In  the  ecclesiastical  records  of 
that  period,  evidence  is  found  that,  in  Italy,  churches  were 
in  every  century  decorated  with  paintings  and  mosaics  by 
native  or  Greek  artists.  A  kind  of  competition,  indeed, 
appears  to  have  been  carried  on  between  the  successive 
pontiffs,  imitated  by  their  inferior  suffragans,  who  should 
thus  load  some  favorite  cathedral  with  the  greatest  quan- 
tity of  barbarous  finery.  These  gentlemen,  as  even  the 
Abbate  Tiraboschi  has  ventured  to  disclose,  being  rarely 
Ornamental  to  the  church  in  their  own  proper  persons, 
endeavored  to  make  up  the  deficiency  in  the  best  way 
possible  by  proxy.  From  monuments  still  remaining  in 
Germany,  it  is  evident,  that  neither  was  some  degree  of 
skill  wanting  in  that  quarter.  In  France,  as  in  our  coun- 
try, similar  research  would  probably  be  rewarded  with  the 
same  discovery.  Though  darkened,  the  human  spirit  was 
still  at  work ;  and  when  at  length  its  energies  were  res- 
tored to  comparative  activity  by  the  slow  operation  of 
causes,  imperceptible  in  themselves,  mighty  in  their  re- 
sults, the  arts,  as  already  seen,  shone  forth  among  the 
morning  stars  in  the  dawn  of  freedom.  This  light  first 
arose  upon  Italy  ;  and,  from  the  circumstances  of  her  sit- 
uation, Florence  soonest  established  a  school  of  painting. 
Cimabue,  her  citizen,  early  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
caught  the  inspiration  from  certain  Greek  painters,  em- 
ployed by  order  of  the  magistracy.  Equalling  his  mas- 
ters, he  was  himself  surpassed  by  Giotto,  once  a  shepherd 
boy ;  in  turn  excelled  by  Memmi,  Orgagna,  Ucello,  Mas- 
solino,  to  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  all 


PAINTING. 


131 


former  names  were  forgotten  in  the  merits  of  Massaccio. 
Dying  at  the  age  of  twentyfour,  he  gave  to  painting  truth, 
expression,  light,  and  shade  ;  thus  creating  the  first  era  in 
its  history.  The  chapel  which  still  contains  his  frescoes, 
the  early  school  of  Da  Vinci  and  Buonarotti  —  the  scene, 
too,  of  the  latter's  misfortune,  will  long  be  visited  with 
interest  by  the  pilgrims  of  art.  About  the  same  time,  the 
invention  of  oil  painting,  ascribed  to  Van  Eyck  of  Bruges  ; 
and,  not  long  after,  the  illusion  of  aerial  perspective  added 
by  Ghirlandajo,  gave  to  modern  art  all  the  means  of  per- 
fection. These  did  not  remain  unimproved  in  the  hands 
of  such  men  as  Verrocchio,  first  excelling  in  perspective, 
Lippi,  Signorelli,  in  whose  works  evidence  of  selection  is 
apparent,  and  many  others,  who,  in  different  cities  in 
Italy,  were  now  laying  the  foundation  of  schools,  soon  to 
become  as  distinct  in  manner  as  the  masters  of  one  and 
the  same  art  can  well  be  conceived. 

But  though  much  had  been  accomplished  before  the 
close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  as  respects  the  higher  quali- 
ties of  imitative  art,  painting  was  still  in  infancy.  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci,  born  in  1452,  reared  it  to  high  maturity. 
The  genius  of  this  extraordinary  man  seemed  as  a  mirror, 
receiving  and  reflecting,  in  added  brightness,  every  ray  of 
intellectual  light  which  had  yet  beamed  upon  the  age. 
Philosopher,  poet,  artist,  he  anticipated  the  march  of  three 
centuries ;  proving,  in  his  own  instance,  what  the  un- 
shackled energies  of  man  would  then  accomplish.  Yet  — 
and  that,  too,  by  a  living  historian  of  most  deserved  repu- 
tation —  has  Leonardo  been  represented  as  a  dabbler  in 
various  knowledge,  a  proficient  in  none  —  a  laborious 
idler,  wasting  time  and  talent  in  useless  multiplicity  of 
pursuit.  This  apparently  has  been  done  to  exalt  his  great 
contemporary  and  successor ;  but  history  ought  not  to  be 
written  as  a  picture  is  painted,  touching  in  under-tones 


132 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


what  are  deemed  secondaries,  that  the  light  may  be  more 
conspicuously  directed  to  a  principal  figure.  At  the  shrine 
of  art,  the  devotion  of  Da  Vinci  was  neither  devoid  of  fer- 
vor nor  unfruitful ;  albeit  he  courted,  and  not  unsuccess- 
fully, the  favors  of  science,  then  new  and  dear  to  the 
aspiring  mind.  His  true  rank  is  not  only  among  the 
fathers,  but  the  masters  of  the  art ;  he  is  one  who  not 
merely  preceded,  but  excelled.  His  cartoon  of  horsemen 
in  the  battle  of  Pisa  formed  a  favorite  study  of  the  great- 
est masters ;  and,  in  competition,  Michael  Angelo  pro- 
duced another  of  soldiers  arming  in  haste,  after  bathing  ; 
which  even  his  admirers  say  he  scarcely  ever  afterwards 
equalled.  Yet  was  Leonardo  not  vanquished.  The  Last 
Supper,  painted  in  fresco,  at  Milan,  exhibited  a  dignity 
and  propriety  of  expression,  a  correctness  of  drawing, 
then  unequalled ;  and,  if  seen  as  originally  finished,  pro- 
bably still  unsurpassed.  The  story  of  the  head  of  the 
principal  personage  having  been  left  incomplete  is  a  vul- 
gar error,  as  might  be  easily  proved  by  reference  to  the 
early  literature  of  Italian  art.  The  well-known  portrait  of 
Mona  Lisa,  in  purity  of  drawing,  sweetness  of  simple 
and  natural  expression,  has  an  equal  only  in  the  works 
of  Raphael.  But  the  influence  of  this  master  extended 
much  more  widely  than  the  sphere  of  individual  exam- 
ples :  he  first  united  the  science  of  anatomy  with  that 
of  painting,  and  both  with  nature ;  and  thus  may  truly 
be  said  to  have  prepared  the  art  for  the  coming  great- 
ness. 

To  the  majesty  of  Michael  Angelo's  genius  the  reader 
has  already  done  homage.  If  in  sculpture  the  grandeur 
of  his  conceptions  was  admired,  in  painting  this  greatness 
is  still  more  wonderful,  but  unfortunately,  not  less  singu- 
lar and  remote  from  nature.  Yet,  than  the  painting  of 
Buonarotti  there  is  perhaps  no  instance  of  intellectual 


PAINTING. 


133 


power  more  truly  grand  in  the  entire  history  of  mind.  Pre- 
vious to  leaving  his  native  Florence,  where  he  was  born, 
of  a  noble  family,  in  1474 ;  and  whence  he  fled,  when 
his  country  became  false  to  herself  and  to  freedom,  archi- 
tecture and  sculpture  had  formed  his  principal  studies. 
Design  he  had  pursued  little  farther  than  as  indispensably 
connected  with  these :  of  painting,  as  a  separate  science, 
he  was  of  course  comparatively  ignorant.  In  this  state 
of  knowledge,  he  received  orders  to  complete  the  paint- 
ings in  the  Sextine  Chapel,  upon  which  several  of  the 
artists,  already  mentioned,  had  before  been  engaged!  Yet, 
at  this  time,  Michael  Angelo  was  unacquainted  with  the 
mechanical  processes  of  fresco.  To  produce  the  designs 
was  to  him  a  labour  of  ease ;  and  these  he  endeavored  to 
have  executed  by  artists  brought  from  Florence  ;  but  on 
trial,  dismissed  them  in  all  save  utter  hopelessness.  Rising 
in  the  strength  and  perseverance  of  indomitable  genius,  he 
resolved  to  begin  art  anew,  and  to  depend  henceforth  solely 
on  his  own  resources.  Shutting  himself  up  in  the  fated  chap- 
el, preparing  the  materials  with  his  own  hands,  after  many 
trials  and  failures,  —  after  beholding  the  first  piece  finished 
to  his  satisfaction,  moulder  and  mildew  almost  before  his 
admiring  eye  —  he  at  length  triumphed,  achieving  in  the 
course  of  years  the  most  adventurous  undertaking  in  mod- 
ern art,  under  circumstances,  too,  that  while  they  encourage 
all,  leave  to  none  who  aspires  to  the  moral  dignity  of  talent 
even  the  shadow  of  an  apology  for  irresolution  or  indolence. 

The  walls  and  ceiling  of  the  Sextine  Chapel,  with  the 
picture  of  the  Last  Judgment,  executed  thirty  years  after- 
wards, form  the  principal,  almost  the  sole,  works  of  Michael 
Angelo  in  painting.  The  latter  is  the  greatest  work  of 
modern  art,  being  fifty  feet  high  by  forty  wide,  and  con- 
taining upwards  of  300  figures,  many  of  which  are  larger 
than  life.  Here  the  human  form  appears  under  every 
12 


134 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


variety  of  position,  and  agitated  by  every  gradation  of  feel- 
ing; and  over  the  whole  is  diffused  a  living  ease  —  a 
science —  a  magic  power  —  a  fascination,  which  constrains 
us  to  gaze  with  wonder,  astonishment,  admiration,  but 
not  with  interest  or  sympathy.  Similar  are  our  feelings 
in  every  other  example ;  nor  can  this  be  exactly  charged 
as  a  defect.  Michael  Angelo  formed  a  system  for  him- 
self —  he  stands  alone  in  his  art  —  an  ideal  abstraction  of 
mind  was  the  object  of  his  imitation,  to  which  all  of  liv- 
ing nature,  elevated  into  gigantic  forms  and  energetic 
modes,  was  to  be  moulded  in  subserviency.  His  art  was 
creative,  not  imitative  —  standing  forth,  in  its  own  inde- 
pendence of  aim. 

Hence,  there  are  two  relations  in  which  the  works  in 
painting  of  Michael  Angelo  are  to  be  examined,  and  ac- 
cording to  which  his  merits  will  be  very  differently  esti- 
mated. Viewed  in  themselves,  the  frescos  of  the  Vatican 
present  astonishing  evidences  of  human  power.  Every 
thought  is  grandeur  and  strength ;  and  the  rapid,  fervent 
execution  arms  the  pencil  with  an  omnipotence  of  art 
equal  to  all  the  modifications  of  form.  Here  the  whole  is 
perfect,  inimitable ;  within  this  his  own  walk,  Buonarotti 
has  no  compeer,  — '  second  to  none,  with  nothing  like  to 
him.'  But  when  the  same  works  are  considered  in  refer- 
ence to  the  general  principles  of  imitation,  and  as  deriving 
value  according  as  they  reflect  the  archetypes  of  elevated 
nature,  those  very  qualities  which  formerly  constrained 
our  approbation,  become  startling  blemishes.  The  ideal 
is  found  to  consist  solely  in  the  imaginative ;  sublimity  is 
sought  too  exclusively  in  the  vehement  to  be  always  dig- 
nified. All  is  action,  —  all  participates  of  an  unquiet 
and  too  aspiring  character  of  composition :  every  form, 
every  muscle,  every  attitude,  exhibits  the  very  gladiator- 
ship  of  art,  —  for  each  is  displayed,  exerted,  involved,  to 


PAINTING. 


135 


the  utmost.  Even  repose  is  anything  save  rest.  Yet,  in 
difficulty  apparently  insurmountable,  constraint  is  not  per- 
ceived ;  the  execution,  wonderfully  facile,  though  too 
prominent  in  general  effect,  gives  to  each  giant  limb  of 
the  awful  and  gloomy  shapes,  the  very  effect  of  life  and 
movement.  But  to  this  display  of  capabilities  —  to.  the 
exhibition  of  science,  and  the  sporting  with  difficulty, 
truth,  simplicity,  feeling,  and  real  beauty,  have  been  sacri- 
ficed. In  this  nothing  seems  peculiar  to  painting  as  dis- 
tinguished from  sculpture ;  nor,  indeed,  is  there  any  dis- 
crimination :  color,  tone,  light,  shadow  —  all  is  systematic 
and  ideal,  but  all  mighty  and  overpowering  in  the  whole. 
Again,  when  the  influence  of  such  a  style  upon  the  pro- 
gress of  improvement  is  considered,  it  appears  that  such 
influence  could  be  favorable  neither  to  future  improve- 
ment nor  to  stationary  excellence.  The  greatness  of 
Michael  Angelo,  then,  is  his  own  —  not  the  grandeur  of 
art.  Both  sculpture  and  painting  hp  made  subservient  to 
the  loftiest  aims,  and  the  most  splendid  fame  any  artist 
ever  did,  perhaps  can,  pursue  or  attain :  yet  each  was  but 
a  slave,  ministering  to  a  glory  in  which  neither  intrinsi- 
cally participated. 

Contemporary  with  the  '  mighty  Florentine/  but  most 
unlike  in  all  the  characteristics  of  genius,  save  the  sub- 
limity of  the  final  result,  was  Raphael,  the  founder  and 
master  of  the  Roman  school.  Born  at  Urbino,  1483,  he 
arrived  in  Rome  upon  the  invitation  of  his  relation,  Bra- 
mante,  the  architect,  about  1508,  nearly  at  the  same  time 
with  his  great  rival.  Dying  on  his  thirtyseventh  birth- 
day, he  has,  in  a  short  life,  bequeathed  to  posterity  works 
almost  equally  numerous,  and  certainly  displaying  more 
of  the  profound  excellences  and  beautiful  sentiment  of  art, 
than  those  of  any  name  since  the  revival  of  painting.  Of 
these  inestimable  productions  there  remain  to  us  easel  pic- 


136 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


tures  in  oil,  cartoons,  and  frescos,  exhibiting,  also,  three 
different  manners.  The  first  dry,  little,  and  tedious,  but 
.  not  without  truth  —  often  great  beauty  of  finishing.  This 
was  derived  from  his  instructer,  Pietro  Perugino ;  and 
though  observable  as  a  general  characteristic  only  in  his 
early  easel  pictures,  and  some  frescos  at  Sienna,  may  yet 
occasionally  be  detected  in  the  careful  pencilling  even  of 
his  frescos,  and  in  the  making  out  of  his  accompaniments. 
The  pictures  which  display  this  style  are  those  painted 
after  he  left  his  master  in  1499,  and  before  his  return  to 
Urbino  about  1504.  The  finest  of  these  was  executed  in 
his  seventeenth  year,  representing  a  Holy  Family,  —  the 
Virgin  raising  a  veil  from  the  Infant,  who  sleeps.  Except 
in  the  works  of  Da  Vinci,  so  much  sweetness  of  expres- 
sion and  beauty  of  design  had  not  yet  appeared  in  the  art, 
as  is  found  even  in  this  youthful  production.  The  second 
manner  is  an  intermediate  step  —  an  attempt  to  escape 
from  a  minuteness  which  he  soon  discovered  to  be  unsuit- 
able both  to  his  own  fervor  and  the  dignity  of  art.  The 
change  is  perceptible  immediately  after  he  had  studied 
the  works  of  the  Florentine  masters,  whose  improvements, 
and  the  vigor  of  their  enlarged  style,  he  would  at  sight 
appreciate  as  movements  evidently  in  advance,  but  with 
which  he  had  hitherto  remained  unacquainted.  As  a  se- 
parate manner,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  exist ;  for  at 
most  it  was  but  a  new  instrument  in  the  possession  of  a 
mind  which  has  made  everything  its  own.  All  that  is 
apparent  amounts  merely  to  a  progressive  melioration, 
extending  through  three  or  four  years,  of  which  space  he 
resided  nearly  two  in  Florence,  studying  the  performan- 
ces of  art  in  that  city,  but  receiving  no  personal  instruc- 
tions, excepting  a  reciprocal  interchange  of  knowledge 
with  Fra  Bartolomeo.  The  most  celebrated  pictures 
produced  by  him  during  this  interval  are  the  Virgin,  In- 


PAINTING. 


137 


fant,  and  St  John,  in  the  ducal  gallery,  and  the  entomb- 
ing of  Christ,  now  at  Rome.  These,  more  strikingly 
when  viewed  in  comparison  with  the  style  of  contempora- 
ry works,  exhibit  beauties  of  so  opposite  a  character  to 
the  compositions  of  Michael  Angelo,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  perceive  any  grounds  on  which  the  obligations  said  to 
be  owing  by  their  author  to  the  latter  can  be  rested. 
Buonarotti,  in  fact,  could  not,  or  at  least  never  did,  paint 
in  a  taste  of  such  simplicity  as  these  exhibit.  The  third 
manner  is  solely  and  exclusively  individual,  neither  de- 
rived nor  —  we  grieve  to  say  —  inherited  ;  full,  harmoni- 
ous, sweet,  and  flowing  —  yet  bold,  learned,  and  sustain- 
ed,— composed  of  such  an  union  of  natural  grace  and 
antique  correctness,  as  meet  only  in  the  creations  of  Ra- 
phael's pencil.  To  this  style  his  most  important  works 
belong,  having  been  formed  after  his  arrival  in  Rome,  and 
when  he  had  there  become  deeply  impressed  with  the 
sublimities  of  ancient  art.  In  the  space  of  only  twelve 
years  —  for  he  united  exquisite  finish  with  wonderful  ex- 
pedition—  he  completed  the  frescos  of  the  Vatican  and 
the  Farnesina,  besides  others,  amounting  to  many  hundred 
figures  —  designed  the  Cartoons —  cultivating,  at  the  same 
time,  architecture  (of  which  he  was  a  master),  poetry,  and 
sculpture.  During  the  same  laborious  period  were  pro- 
duced those  exquisite  paintings  in  oil,  which  have  chiefly 
contributed  to  spread  his  fame  beyond  Italy.  Of  these 
the  best,  the  most  wonderful,  though  in  slight  respects  not 
the  most  perfect,  is  the  Transfiguration  —  the  last  be- 
queathment  of  his  genius  to  the  arts  and  to  posterity,  for 
he  died  within  a  few  days  after  it  was  completed. 

As  Raphael  in  these  works,  no  painter  has  ever  done 
so  much  for  the  real  excellence  of  the  art,  nor,  in  the 
principles  upon  which  they  are  conducted,  has  placed  im- 
provement on  precepts  so  pure,  so  unerring.    All  that 
*12 


138 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


imagination  could  lend  to  a  strictly  imitative  art  he  has 
added,  yet  has  infused  into  its  creations  the  warmest  sen- 
sibilities of  life;  to  nature  he  has  given  all  that  grace  and 
fancy  can  bestow,  consistent  with  the  sweetest  of  all 
charms  —  leaving  her  nature  still.  On  this  account  is 
Raphael,  of  all  great  names  in  art,  the  safest  to  adopt  as 
the  guide  of  taste  and  practice.  For  were  the  most  de- 
cided admirer  of  system  merely  to  copy,  he  would  quickly 
find  himself  constrained  to  become  the  disciple  of  real- 
ity. True,  we  discover  no  mixed  modes  of  nature,  such 
as  impede  her  energies  and  cloud  her  beauties  in  ordinary 
life;  yet  the  tranquil  loveliness  —  the  sinless  beauty  — 
the  noble  feeling  of  the  representation  —  has  nothing  of 
the  cold  and  merely  imaginative.  This,  indeed,  consti- 
tutes the  great  charm  of  Raphael's  grace,  that  neither  in 
form  nor  expression  is  it  abstract ;  its  power  of  moving  is 
acquired  directly  from  human  sympathy.  In  gazing  upon 
his  dramatic  scenes  and  breathing  figures,  who  has  not 
experienced  this  truth  in  a  gradual  melting  of  the  heart, 
in  unison  with  every  pure  and  holy  remembrance  that 
connects  man  with  the  species  ?  See  the  Madona  —  how 
mildly,  simply  beautiful !  In  that  bosom  not  one  rude 
passion  has  a  resting  place ;  yet  feels  not  each  spectator 
now  called-up  dear  though  distant  recollections  of  a  pa- 
rent's —  a  mother's  tenderness,  with  all  the  reverential 
charities  of  life's  spring  ?  Behold  the  Magdalen  —  how 
changed  the  sensibilities !  still  how  respectable !  One 
overmastering,  absorbing  affection.  No  meretricious  dis- 
play—  every  movement  is  that  of  passion,  but  of  senti- 
ment too.  Or  view  that  youth  so  intent  upon  instruction  ; 
he  hangs  upon  the  very  words  of  his  aged  guide.  How 
powerfully  do  we  conceive  the  mature  resolves  that  irradi- 
ate the  ingenuous  countenance  !  Or  turn  your  attention 
to  the  child  who  is  playing  in  the  lap  of  the  mother  — 


PAINTING. 


139 


how  innocently  happy !  how  unconsciously  beautiful ! 
Yet  look  again  ;  — even  here  is  passion^  sentiment,  futuri- 
ty. The  imagination  involuntarily  shapes  out  the  foitunes 
of  that  disposition  so  legibly  expressed  in  the  speaking 
countenance.  But  in  the  deep  meaning  of  the  mild  full 
eye,  in  the  holy  expression  which  beams  in  every  linea- 
ment, in  the  spotless  form,  has  not  genius  made  the  near- 
est approaches  to  our  unbreathed  conceptions  of  an  infant 
Saviour  !  Regard  that  prophet  —  how  glorious,  yet  how 
good,  he  seems  !  No  spirit  insensible  to  human  woe,  un- 
pitying  of  human  frailty,  lives  there.  The  errors  and 
backslidings  of  his  race  have  given  a  fixed  though  placid 
sorrow  to  the  eye,  but  the  closing  sunshine  of  his  own 
pure  life  hath  settled  on  the  majestic  brow. 

Such  are  all  the  works  of  Raphael,  full  to  overflowing 
of  human  sentiment  and  of  interest.  In  their  very  highest 
ideal,  they  are  but  the  primeval  dignity  and  sacredness  of 
our  nature.  How  then  can  these  facts  be  reconciled  with 
the  opinion  so  boldly  and  so  long  asserted,  that  they  do 
not  strike  at  first  sight  —  that  the  heart  as  well  as  the 
judgment  must  be  gradually  prepared  to  relish  their  beau- 
ties ?  We  shall  not  attempt  to  reconcile  —  we  deny  the 
conclusion.  Where  these  works  have  not  been  from  the 
first  felt,  and, admired,  and  loved  in  their  truth  and  in  their 
simplicity,  they  have  been  viewed  through  the  mists  of 
false  theory,  or  compared  with  erroneous  standards  of  ex- 
cellence. We  discard  all  consideration  of  the  theories  of 
the  French  professional  critics  on  this  subject ;  but  it  has 
often  been  matter  of  great  surprise  to  find  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  maintaining  the  same  system.  '  I  remember 
very  well,'  says  the  English  artist,  '  my  own  disappointment 
when  I  first  visited  the  Vatican ;  but  on  confessing  my 
feelings  to  a  brother  student,  of  whose  ingenuousness  I 
had  a  high  opinion,  he  acknowledged  that  the  works  of 


140 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Raphael  had  the  same  effect  upon  him  —  or  rather,  that 
they  did  not  produce  the  effect  which  he  expected.  This 
was  a  great  relief  to  my  mind ;  and  on  inquiring  further 
of  other  students,  I  found  that  those  persons  only,  who, 
from  natural  imbecility,  appeared  incapable  of  ever  relish- 
ing those  divine  performances,  made  pretensions  to  instan- 
taneous raptures  on  first  beholding  them.  I  found  myself 
in  the  midst  of  works  executed  upon  principles  with 
which  I  was  unacquainted  ;  I  felt  my  ignorance,  and  stood 
abashed.  I  viewed  them  again  and  again  ;  I  even  affected 
to  admire  them  more  than  I  really  did.  In  a  short  time  a 
new  taste  and  a  new  perception  began  to  dawn  upon  me, 
and  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  originally  formed  a  false 
opinion  of  the  perfection  of  the  art,  and  that  this  great 
painter  was  well  entitled  to  the  high  rank  which  he  holds 
in  the  estimation  of  the  world.  But  let  it  always  be  re- 
membered that  the  excellence  of  his  style  is  not  on  the 
surface,  but  lies  deep,  and  at  first  view  is  seen  but  mistily. 
It  is  the  florid  style  which  strikes  at  once,  and  captivates 
the  eye  for  a  time,  without  ever  satisfying  the  judgment.' 
We  admire  this  candor,  and  can  at  once  admit  the  just- 
ness of  these  remarks  in  general,  when  applied  to  the 
works  of  Michael  Angelo,  on  whose  principles  it  is  well 
known  that  Sir  Joshua  formed  his  theory  of  ideal  beauty. 
But  in  reference  to  Raphael,  conclusions  the  very  opposite 
would  be  nearer  the  truth.  Drawn  immediately  from  na- 
ture, as  are  all  his  ideas,  they  interest  the  heart  at  once ; 
and  as  we  study  the  exquisite  mechanism,  the  perfection 
of  the  details,  the  propriety  of  the  composition,  the  judg- 
ment confirms  yet  more  the  impressions  which  the  heart 
first  entertained. 

These  observations  lead  to,  while  they  are  confirmed 
by,  another  view,  which  yet  remains  to  be  taken  of  the 
genius  of  Raphael.    It  is  only  in  the  individuality  and 


PAINTING. 


141 


profoundness  of  expression,  that  he  reaches  the  sublimities 
of  art.  In  the  abstract  conception  of  form  he  is  inferior  ; 
hence,  in  the  representations  of  mythological  existences, 
he  becomes  feeble  in  proportion  as  he  generalizes.  It  is 
this  that  discriminates  between  the  Roman  and  the  Flo- 
rentine. The  former  is  the  painter  of  men  as  they  live, 
and  feel,  and  act ;  the  latter  delineates  man  in  the  abstract. 
The  one  embodies  sentiment  —  feeling  —  passion  ;  the 
other  pourtrays  the  capacities,  energies,  and  idealities  of 
form.  Raphael  excels  in  resemblance  ;  he  walks  the 
earth,  but  with  dignity,  and  is  seen  to  most  advantage  in 
relations  of  human  fellowship.  Michael  Angelo  can  be 
viewed  only  in  his  own  world ;  with  ours  he  holds  no  far- 
ther communion  than  is  necessary  to  obtain  a  common 
medium  of  intelligence.  In  the  grand,  the  venerable,  the 
touching  realities  of  life,  the  first  is  unrivalled ;  his  fair, 
and  seeming  true,  creations  cause  us  to  reverence  humanity 
and  ourselves.  Over  the  awful  and  the  sublime  of  fiction, 
the  second  extends  a  terrible  sway ;  he  calls  spirits  from 
their  shadowy  realms,  and  they  come  at  his  bidding,  in 
giant  shapes,  to  frown  upon  the  impotency  of  man. 

To  contend  here  for  superiority  is  futile  —  each  has  his 
own  independent  sphere.  The  style  of  Raphael  has  justly 
been  characterised  as  the  dramatic,  that  of  Michael  Ange- 
lo as  the  epic,  of  painting.  The  distinction  is  accurate,  in 
as  far  as  the  former  has  made  to  pass  before  us  character 
in  conflict  with  passion  —  in  all  its  individualities  of  mode ; 
while  the  latter  represented  and  generalized  both  charac- 
ter and  passion.  The  first  leads  us  from  natural  beauty 
to  divine  —  the  second  elevates  us  at  once  into  regions 
which  his  own  lofty  imaginations  have  peopled.  Hence, 
than  Michael  Angelo's  prophets,  and  other  beings  that 
just  hover  on  the  confines  of  human  and  spiritual  exist- 
ence, the  whole  range  of  art  and  poetry  never  has,  and 


142 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


never  will,  produce  more  magnificent  and  adventurous 
creations.  This  is  bis  true  power  —  here  he  reigns  alone, 
investing  art  with  a  mightiness  unapproachable  by  any 
other  pencil.  But  when  the  interest  is  to  be  derived  from 
known  forms,  and  natural  combinations,  he  fails  almost 
utterly ;  never  can  his  line  want  grandeur  —  but  grandeur 
so  frequently  substituted  for  feeling,  and  when  the  subject 
cannot  sustain  it,  presents  only  gorgeous  caricature.  Hu- 
man affection  mingles  in  every  touch  of  Raphael,  and  he 
carries  our  nature  to  its  highest  moral,  if  not  physical, 
elevation.  Hence,  his  supernatural  forms  may  want  ab- 
stract majesty  and  overawing  expression  ;  but  they  display 
a  community  in  this  world's  feelings,  without  its  weakness- 
es or  imperfections,  by  which  the  heart  is  perhaps  even 
more  subdued. 

If  this  be  a  true  estimate  of  the  powers  of  these  great 
men,  and  we  have  drawn  our  inferences  from  impressions 
often  felt,  and  long  studied,  no  comparison  can  be  more 
unjust,  nor  less  'dpi,  than  the  one  so  frequently  repeated, 
that  Michael  Angelo  is  the  Homer,  Raphael  the  Virgil,  of 
modern  painting.  The  Florentine  may  justly  take  his 
place  by  the  side  of  the  Greek.  Not  so  the  Roman  and 
the  Mantuan.  The  copyist  of  Homer,  nay,  frequently  his 
translator,  whose  nature  is  taken  at  second-hand  —  whose 
characters,  in  the  mass,  have  about  as  much  individuality 
as  the  soldiers  of  a  platoon,  and  little  more  intellectual 
discrimination  than  brave,  braver,  and  bravest,  must  oc- 
cupy a  lower  seat  at  the  banquet  of  genius  than  the  original, 
the  ever  varied,  and  graphic  artist.  The  great  error  in 
estimating  the  merits  of  these  masters  appears'  to  have 
arisen  from  not  considering  them  separately,  and  as  inde- 
pendent minds.  Michael  Angelo,  indeed,  created,  while 
Raphael  may  be  said  to  have  composed  ;  but  he  discovered 
and  collected  —  he  did  not  derive  his  materials.  Michael 


PAINTING, 


143 


Angelo  found  the  art  poor  in  means,  undignified  and 
powerless  in  composition  ;  he  assumed  it  in  feebleness,  and 
bore  it  at  once  to  maturity  of  strength.  Of  these  improve- 
ments Raphael  profited  by  novel  application ;  but  the  ad- 
vantage was  nothing  more  than  necessarily  occurs  in  the 
spread  of  intelligence.    Massaccio  had,  in  like  manner, 
prepared  the  previous  change ;  Da  Vinci  first,  then  Buo- 
narotti,  took  it  up.    The  pupil  of  Perugino  made  availment 
of  this  new  path  to  a  commanding  height,  whence  the 
whole  prospect  of  the  empire  of  art  might  be  surveyed,  but 
over  this  his  genius  soared  in  guideless,  independent  flight. 
Than  the  invention,  and  at  such  a  time,  of  Michael  Ange- 
lo's  mighty  system,  there  is  to  be  found  no  greater  evidence 
of  talent,  nor  of  greater  talent ;  but  from  the  mind  that 
could  conceive  that  system,  scarcely  an  exertion  was  de- 
manded to  maintain  supremacy  therein,  guarded  as  were 
its  claims  against  all  rivalry  by  the  very  novelty  and  pecu- 
liarity of  the  style,  where  each  adopter  would  be  degrad- 
ed into  an  imitator.    On  the  other  hand,  if  the  perfection 
of  Raphael's  manner  appear  to  be  more  in  the  ordinary- 
course  of  genius,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  its  very  per- 
fectness  depends  upon  those  qualities  of  mind  which  most 
rarely  assemble  in  the  constitution  of  inventive  genius  — 
exquisite  taste,  sound  judgment,  patient  study,  and  pro- 
found knowledge  of  the  human  heart.    Be  it  also  recol- 
lected, that  to  support  the  mastery  here,  in  a  style  founded 
on  no  peculiar  habitudes  of  intellect,  but  embracing  the 
general  and  intrinsic  principles  of  art,  where  all  good  art- 
ists would  consequently  be  rivals,  without  incurring  the 
imputation  of  copying,  required  unabating  effort,  diligence, 
and  originality, —  more  liberal  and  varied  excellence,  than 
in  the  preceding  system.   -Here  we  at  length  discover  the 
real  and  abiding  superiority  of  Raphael.    It  is  not  that  he 
pre-eminently  surpasses  in  one  of  the  faculties  of  genius, 


144 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


but  he  has  embodied  in  his  labours  more  of  the  requisites 
of  perfection  than  any  other  of  the  modern  masters.  In 
grandeur  of  invention  and  form,  he  is  inferior  to  Michael 
Angelo.  Titian  surpasses  him  in  coloring,  Corregio  in 
gradation  of  tone.  This  superiority,  however,  becomes 
visible  only  where  each  of  the  qualities  becomes  the  ruling 
sentiment  of  the  work.  For  when  we  view  in  itself  a 
composition  of  Raphael,  where  the  style  of  design  so  ex- 
quisitely accords  with  the  forms,  the  coloring  corresponding 
with  each,  the  chiar'  oscufo  just  adequate  to  the  degree  of 
perception  meditated ;  the  whole  harmonized  by  innate 
and  unerring  propriety,  animated  with  his  own  peculiar 
grace  and  sentiment,  while  each  separate  quality  becomes 
yet  more  perfect  in  the  combination, —  the  pencil  seems 
justly  to  have  attained  its  unrivalled  utmost. 

With  their  respective  founders,  the  schools  of  Rome 
and  Florence  may  be  said  to  have  terminated  ;  at  least  the 
mantle  of  their  teacher  rested  with  very  unequal  inspira- 
tion upon  the  disciples  of  both.  The  death  of  Raphael, 
in  1520.  proved  an  irremediable  loss  to  the  arts,  the  extent 
of  which  never  can  indeed  be  known.  His  pure  and 
natural  style,  had  it  been  more  firmly  engrafted  by  longer 
life,  would  probably  have  delayed,  perhaps  prevented,  the 
sudden  extravagance  and  mannerism  which  overspread 
the  united  schools  of  Tuscany  and  Rome,  at  the  head  of 
which  Michael  Angelo  survived  upwards  of  forty  years. 

Among  the  various  pursuits  of  taste,  painting  alone  ex- 
hibits this  singular  fortune,  that  the  noblest  and  most  in- 
tellectual of  its  principles,  as  also  those  which  speak  most 
directly  to  sense,  and  are  merely  alluring,  were  invented 
at  the  same  time,  but  in  different  places,  and  separately 
practised.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  also,  that  in  each  re- 
spect the  first  inventors  remained  the  most  accomplished 
professors  of  their  own  discoveries.    While  in  Rome  and 


PAINTING. 


145 


Florence,  design  and  expression  were  receiving  their  per- 
fection, forming  the  almost  exclusive  subjects  of  study,  in 
Venice,  the  seductions  of  coloring,  in  Lombardy,  the  illu- 
sions of  light  and  shadow,  were  adding  unknown  pomp 
and  magic  to  the  art. 

The  school  of  Venice,  though  one  of  the  earliest  in  Eu- 
rope to  cherish  reviving  arts,  has  added  little  of  intellectual 
or  noble  to  their  progressive  culture.  Here  they  have 
never  flourished  in  the  genial  soil  of  popular  institutions. 
A  haughty  and  jealous,  yet  luxurious  and  unpatriotic  aris- 
tocracy, converted  the  arts  into  instruments  of  private 
gratification  —  instead  of  turning  them  to  national  orna- 
ment. Hence  sculpture  has  been  little  cultivated,  architec- 
ture more,  though  in  peculiar  style,  and  painting  most  of 
all.  But  while  the  sacredness  of  religion,  or  the  manliness 
of  history,  has  occupied  the  Italian  pencil  generally,  of  the 
older  masters  especially,  Venice  has  sent  forth  her  lordly 
senators,  splendid  banquets,  and  naked  beauties.  From 
the  twelfth  century,  we  have  already  seen,  a  movement 
might  be  discerned  in  the  arts  of  Venice.  Her  school  of 
painting  begins  to  attract  notice  under  Antonello  da  Mes- 
sina, who  introduced  oil  colors.  The  Bellinis  carried  out 
his  improvements ;  and  as  pupils  of  the  youngest,  we  dis- 
cover Giorgione  and  Titian,  who,  with  Tintoretto,  Paul 
Veronese,  Sebastian  del  Piombo,  Schiavone,  and  Bassano, 
were  the  chief  masters  of  this  school. 

But  of  Venetian  painting  the  great  ornament  is  Titian, 
whose  name  is  synonymous  with  the  characteristic  of  the 
native  school  —  fine  coloring.  From  this,  however,  we  are 
not  to  suppose,  as  is  too  frequenly  done,  that  he  was  want- 
ing in  the  higher  principles  of  his  profession.  The  alleg- 
ed imperfection  of  his  design  will  not  often  be  detected, 
and  only  in  momentary  action  of  the  parts;  for  in  the  more 
common  modifications  of  form,  it  is  faultless,  and  of  inani- 
13 


146 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


mate  nature  the  drawing  and  painting  of  his  landscapes  is 
unrivalled.  In  expression  he  is  the  most  historical  of  all 
painters,  his  portraits  being  second  only  to  those  of  Ra- 
phael. In  careful  imitation  of  natural  effect,  he  is  equal 
to  the  most  pains-taking  of  the  Dutch  school  ;  yet,  with 
such  grandeur  and  breadth  in  the  masses,  that,  as  has  been 
justly  remarked,  the  most  imperfect  sketch  in  which  the 
original  disposition  in  this  respect  is  preserved,  will  present 
a  character  of  high  art.  The  chief  defect  of  Titian  was 
in  composition  and  poetical  fancy  ;  he  penetrated  the  very 
secrets  of  nature  in  all  her  varied  effects  and  minutest 
shades  of  tone  and  hue  —  but  he  neither  made  selections 
of  her  forms,  nor  possessed  the  power  of  correcting  her 
defects,  by  an  ideal  standard.  In  this  mastery  of  coloring, 
three  principles  may  be  remarked ;  first,  the  interposing 
medium  between  the  eye  and  the  object  is  supposed  to  be 
a  mellow  golden  light ;  secondly,  the  most  glowing  and 
gorgeous  lights  are  produced,  not  so  much  by  rich  local 
tints  as  by  the  general  conduct  of  the  the  whole  piece,  in 
which  the  gradations  of  tone  are  almost  evanescent,  yet  in 
their  strongest  hues  powerfully  contrasted.  Hence  the 
final  splendor  is  effected  rather  by  painting  in  under-tones, 
than  by  lavishing  on  particular  spots  the  whole  riches  of 
the  palette.  The  shadows  and  under-tones,  also,  are  en- 
livened by  a  thousand  local  hues  and  flickering  lights, 
and  his  masses  by  innumerable  varieties  and  play  of  parts ; 
yet  all  softened,  and  blended,  and  combined  by  an  unde- 
finable  harmony.  Hence,  nothing  more  easy  than  appar- 
ently to  copy  Titian  —  nothing  more  difficult  than  really 
to  imitate  his  faithfulness  and  splendor.  The  third  prin- 
ciple refers  to  his  practice ;  the  colors  are  laid  on  pure, 
without  mixing,  in  tints  by  reiterated  application,  and  ap- 
parently with  the  point  of  the  pencil. 


PAINTING. 


147 


Titian  died  in  1576,  at  the  venerable  age  of  96  or  99, 
having  survived  the  glory  of  the  Venetian  school,  the  last 
disciple  of  decided  eminence  being  Tintoretto,  called  the 
lightning  of  the  pencil,  from  his  miraculous  despatch. 
The  Bassans  are  powerful  colorists,  and  wonderfully  true 
to  nature.  Paul  Veronese  wantons  in  all  the  luxuriance 
of  fresh  and  magnificent  coloring,  but  is  correct  neither  in 
taste  nor  drawing.  Giorgione,  of  all  the  early  Venetian 
masters,  gave  greatest  promise  of  uniting  purity  with  splen- 
dor, but  died  in  1511,  at  the  age  of  33;—  thus  leaving 
Titian,  to  whom  he  had  in  some  measure  been  instructor, 
to  reap  an  undivided  harvest  of  fame. 

In  the  annals  of  genius,  no  name  bears  more  strongly 
on  the  popular  sense  attached  to  the  term  of  a  heaven-born 
inspiration,  superior  to  circumstances  and  independent  of 
tuition,  than  that  of  Antonio  Leti  —  better  known  as  Cor- 
regio.  This  artist,  who  was  born  about  1494,  and  died  at 
the  age  of  40,  is  the  model  rather  than  the  founder  of  the 
Lombard  school.  From  the ,  bosom  of  poverty,  without 
master,  without  patron,  without  even  the  commonest  ap- 
pliances of  his  art,  he  bursts  at  once  upon  the  view  in  all 
the  blaze  of  original  talent  —  unpraised,  unknown  —  in  an 
age  of  knowledge,  to  sink  unmarked  like  the  meteor  of 
the  desert,  leaving  but  the  memorials  of  his  graceful  pen- 
cil —  in  his  own  phrase,  *  anch5  io  son  pittore ' —  to  cry 
aloud  that  he  also  was  a  painter, —  that  such  a  man,  con- 
temporary with  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  and  their 
nearest  compeer,  should  have  lived  in  ignorance  of  them, 
of  Rome,  of  the  antique,  of  all  but  nature  —  to  die  at  last 
unrewarded  in  Parma  —  is  utterly  inexplicable.  The 
principal  works  of  this  master  are  the  two  noble  cupolas 
of  the  cathedral  churches  of  Parma,  painted  in  fresco  — 
one  subject  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  the  other  the 
Ascension  of  the  Saviour.    Of  his  easel  paintings,  the  most 


148 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


precious,  representing  a  Holy  Family,  and  called  the 
'  Night,'  is  in  the  Dresden  gallery.  The  beauties  of  Cor- 
regio  are  grace  and  exquisite  management  of  light  and 
color,  united  with  inexpressible  harmony,  — *  thus  was  com- 
pleted the  round  of  art.'  '  Everything  I  see,5  says  Annibale 
Caracci,  on  beholding  fifty  years  afterwards  these  works  of 
Corregio, '  astonishes  me,  particularly  the  coloring  and  beau- 
ty of  the  children,  who  live,  breathe,  and  smile,  with  so 
much  sweetness  and  vivacity,  that  we  are  constrained  to 
sympathize  in  their  enjoyment.'  The  clearness  and  relief, 
the  sweetness  and  freedom  of  pencil,  in  the  works  before  us, 
have  indeed  never  been  exceeded,  but  correctness  is  not 
one  of  their  elements.  Neither  the  most  beautiful  forms, 
nor  the  most  pleasing  groupings,  are  preferred  to  the  most 
ungraceful  upon  any  principle  of  abstract  elegance,  but 
the  whole  composed  and  selected  in  obedience  to  the  dis- 
tribution of  light  and  the  gradation  of  tone.  In  expression, 
the  same  system  is  pursued ;  for  here  Corregio  has  en- 
deavored habitually  to  impress  the  soft  hues  and  undulating 
lines  which  rapture  and  joy  leave  on  the  countenance. 
Beyond  these,  of  ideal,  he  appears  to  have  had  no  concep- 
tion. Every  form  wears  the  stamp  of  living  nature,  and 
his  coloring  is  the  very  reflection  of  natural  bloom.  He 
wanted  force,  which,  with  the  defect  of  elevation,  renders 
the  whole  effect,  though  delightfully  soft  and  graceful, 
sometimes  effeminate  and  monotonous.  Yet  Raphael 
alone  united  a  greater  variety  of  different  excellences. 

We  have  now  surveyed  the  labours  and  merits  of  the 
old  masters  —  the  patriarchs  of  modern  art.  The  estab- 
lishment of  the  four  primitive  schools  embraces  likewise 
the  golden  age  of  painting.  How  brief  was  the  reign  of 
lofty  genius !  The  same  individual  might  have  lived  with 
all  the  masters  now  enumerated,  —  he  might  have  survived 
them  all,  —  beholding  the  art  in  its  infancy,  and  in  its 


PAINTING. 


149 


manhood,  he  might  have  witnessed  also  its  decline,  and 
yet  have  viewed  all  this  within  the  ordinary  span  of  exis- 
tence. The  same  brevity  in  the  duration  of  excellence 
we  also  remarked  in  the  arts  of  Greece.  Is  it,  then,  the 
fate  of  the  human  spirit,  like  human  institutions,  to  fall 
away  immediately  on  attaining  a  degree  of  perfection  ?  or 
rather,  is  not  this  evidence  of  powers  which  shall  hereafter 
expand,  grow,  and  unfold  their  activities,  —  here  on  earth 
chilled,  and  crampe.d,  and  broken  I 

Among  the  minor  fathers  of  the  art  who  not  unworthily 
supported  the  glory  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  who 
continue  the  history  of  painting  in  the  Roman  and  Flor- 
entine schools  through  the  remainder  of  that  period,  the 
chief  were  the  immediate  disciples  of  Raphael  and  Mi- 
chael Angelo.  The  favorite  pupil  of  the  former,  Julio 
Romano,  was  an  artist  of  highly  poetic  imagination,  but 
less  informed  with  pure  taste  than  his  master;  his  ambi- 
tion appears  to  have  aimed  at  uniting  the  grace  of  his 
instructer  with  the  science  and.  energy  of  Florence. 
Penni,  Perin  del  Vaga,  Polidore  Caravaggio,  and  Maturi- 
no,  not  unsuccessfully  studied  in  the  same  school ;  but  we 
find  a  gradual  disappearance  of  the  more  simple  style  of 
Raphael,  and  long  before  the  middle  of  the  century,  the 
two  schools  may  almost  be  said  to  have  merged  in  the 
overwhelming  despotism  of  the  principles  of  Michael  An- 
gelo. Even  the  names  now  mentioned,  though  at -first 
following  the  Roman  in  their  later  works,  are  scarcely  to 
be  distinguished  from  the  disciples  of  the  Florentine 
school.  Of  those  who  were  truly  disciples  of  the  latter, 
and  who  derived  their  science  immediately  from  the 
founder,  was  Daniel  de  Volterra,  who  survived  till  1566 
The  designs  of  this  latter  have  frequently  been  assigned 
to  his  master ;  and  in  the  opinion  of  Poussin,  his  Descent 
from  the  Cross,  in  fresco,  in  the  church  of  Trinita  del 
*13 


150 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Monte  at  Rome,  is  —  or  rather  was,  for  it  perished  under 
French  experiment,  —  one  of  the  three  best  pictures  in 
the  world.  Andrea  del  Sarto  was  more  an  independent 
master,  who  held  between  the  two  styles,  and  added  better 
coloring  than  either.  Mazzuoli,  better  known  as  Parme- 
giano,  though  by  birth  and  early  study  belonging  to  the 
school  of  Corregio,  his  better  taste  was  formed  at  Rome ; 
his  style  of  design  is  noble,  coloring  forcible,  and  general 
effect  sweet  and  gracious.  He  died  in  1540,  ten  years 
after  the  preceding.  But  of  all  the  followers  of  Michael 
Angelo,  Tibaldi  approached  nearest  to  the  sublimity, 
without  the  extravagance,  of  his  model.  It  soon  becomes 
difficult,  indeed  impossible,  to  follow  decidedly  the  division 
of  the  ancient  schools.  In  the  progress  of  the  century, 
their  principles  become  united  in  the  works  of  the  minor 
painters,  who  are  henceforth  to  be  distinguished  by  the 
place  of  their  birth,  rather  than  by  their  style.  The  de- 
sign of  Michael  Angelo  prevailed  ;  but  to  this  were  added, 
in  proportion  to  the  abilities  of  the  artist,  the  various  dis- 
coveries of  the  other  masters.  The  art  however,  was  in 
rapid  retrogression.  A  style  which  suited  only  the  most 
transcendent  genius,  which  only  under  such  inspiration 
could  be  at  all  pleasing,  and  from  whose  sublimity  one 
step  led  into  the  turgid  and  the  false,  became  a  most  dan- 
gerous instrument  of  ill  in  the  hands  of  mere  imitators. 
The  ingrafting,  also,  upon  its  severe  simplicity,  the  more 
luxurious  modes  of  Venice  and  Lombardy,  tended  still 
more  effectually  to  extinguish  character  and  truth  of  dis- 
tinctive representation. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  and  early  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  the  progress  of  decline  was  stay- 
ed for  a  time  by  the  establishment  of  a  new  school.  This 
was  the  Bolognese  or  Eclectic,  founded  by  the  Caracci, 
and  which,  in  some  measure,  was  the  concentration  of  all 


PAINTING. 


151 


the  Lombard  artists,  who,  separately  following,  in  a  great 
measure,  the  style  of  Corregio,  had  yet  never  united  into 
a  seminary  of  which  that  master  could  be  called  the  head. 
The  grand  principle  of  this  new  academy,  and  thence 
deriving  the  appellation  of  Eclectic,  was  to  select  what 
was  most  excellent  in  the  primitive  schools ;  design  from 
the  Florentine,  and  grace  from  the  Roman,  from  the  Ve- 
netian color,  from  the  Lombard  light  and  shade,  uniting 
all  in  due  proportion  and  harmonious  effect.  The  plan 
was  arduous  and  aspiring,  but  the  idea  was  good;  the 
failure  which  ensued,  for,  abating  the  success  of  individ- 
ual talent,  the  final  result  disappointed  expectation,  arose 
not  from  the  intention  pursued,  but  from  the  means  em- 
ployed. The  Bolognese  masters  sought  to  effect  the  com- 
bination of  these  elements  by  rules  of  art,  instead  of 
taking  nature  as  the  connecting  and  vivifying  principle. 
In  the  study  of  her  effects  they  would  have  found  the 
very  union  they  contemplated  —  the  previous  separation, 
in  fact,  of  pictorial  excellence  into  departments,  had  been 
occasioned  by  partial  or  peculiar  views  of  nature.  Still 
the  success  of  the  attempt  was  great,  and  threw  the  last 
rays  of  glory  over  the  native  seat  of  modern  art. 

The  founders  and  great  ornaments  of  this  school  were 
the  three  Caracci;  Ludovico  the  eldest,  born  in  1555, 
died  in  1619,  was  the  instructor  of  his  two  cousins  — 
Agostino,  three  years  younger,  and  Annibale,  born  in 
1560,  both  of  whom  Ludovico  survived.  The  association 
formed  by  these  relatives  was,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
term,  a  school  of  design,  and  conducted  upon  an  admira- 
ble plan ;  students  being  instructed  in  anatomy,  in  draw- 
ing, in  painting,  and  in  the  principles  of  composition,  by 
actual  superintendence  and  personal  instruction.  The 
unaffected  breadth,  solemnity,  yet  grace  of  effect — -the 
simplicity  of  character,  which  distinguish  the  works  of 


152 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Ludovico,  are  justly  admired.  Augustino  excelled  more 
in  the  theory  than  the  practice  of  his  art ;  but  one  of  the 
best  pictures  of  this  school,  the  St  Jerome  of  the  Certosa, 
is  his.  Engravings  by  him  are  numerous  and  valuable. 
Of  all  the  Caracci,  Annibale  is  the  most  magnificent  in 
his  compositions,  and  may  be  taken  as  the  true  represen- 
tative of  the  school ;  bold,  splendid,  broad,  his  pencil 
deals  its  touches  with  firm,  almost  unerring  certainty,  to 
its  aim  —  but  too  frequently  that  aim  is  style  in  art,  rather 
than  truth  in  feeling. 

Of  the  immediate  pupils  of  the  Bolognese  academy, 
the  first  undoubtedly  is  the  modest  and  tender  Domeni- 
chino.  Though  participating  in  the  common  fault  of  his 
school,  loaded  design,  yet  his  heads  have  a  feeling  and 
expression  approaching  to  the  sublime  in  sentiment.  The 
Communion  of  St  Jerome  is  pronounced  by  Poussin  to 
be  one  of  the  three  best  pictures  in  the  world  —  the 
Transfiguration  of  Raphael,  and  Volterra's  Descent  from 
the  Cross,  completing  the  number.  We  shall  not  easily 
forget  our  impressions  on  beholding  the  Transfiguration 
and  the  Communion  side  by  side  in  the  Vatican.  Guido's 
name  instantly  calls  up  all  our  associations  of  the  graceful 
and  the  benign  ;  but  his  expression  is  too  often  artificial : 
perhaps  in  his  works  we  first  decidedly  mark  those  aca- 
demic abstractions  and  refinements  of  precept,  which, 
formed  independently  of  nature,  hastened  the  downfall  of 
art  in  this  its  last  resting  place.  Guercino  wants  power 
and  individual  character ;  Albani  is  agreeable  and  poetic, 
the  painter  of  the  Loves  and  Graces.  Carlo  Dolci,  a 
Florentine,  imitates  Guido.  Lanfranco  is  bold,  but  incor- 
rect in  his  design  \  as  are  likewise  Pietro  Cortona,  and 
Luca  Giordano,  mannerists  in  whom  is  lost  every  distinc- 
tion of  character.  Contemporary  with  the  Carracci,  but 
self-taught,  and  belonging  to  no  school,  was  Caravaggio, 


PAINTING. 


153 


strong  but  ungraceful  in  design,  harsh  in  the  disposition 
of  his  lights,  but  of  undoubted  genius  :  —  his  pupil  was 
Spagnoletto.  The  history  of  painting  in  Italy,  at  least  of 
painting  animated  by  genius,  may  be  closed  with  the 
name  of  Salvator  Rosa,  who  died  in  1673,  the  only  na- 
tive landscape  painter  which  that  delightful  and  pictur- 
esque country  has  produced.  The  old  masters,  indeed, 
have  left  the  grandest  and  most  perfect  landscape  compo- 
sitions— but  these  are  subservient  to  the  figures.  Rosa 
succeeded  in  both,  and  stands  nobly,  but  peculiarly,  origi- 
nal in  an  age  of  decay  and  mannerism. 

The  eighteenth  century  opens  under  the  auspices  of 
Carlo  Maratti,  an  affected  mannerist,  but  not  altogether 
devoid  of  talent.  After  his  death,  in  1713,  his  rivals, 
Garzi  and  Cignani,  sustained  for  a  little  the  expiring  repu- 
tation of  the  Roman  school.  But  it  is  quite  unnecessary 
to  continue  the  narrative ;  the  state  of  the  arts  during  the 
early  part  of  this  century  has  already  been  noticed,  and 
the  names  of  Bianchi,  Costanzi,  Manchini,  the  early  con- 
temporaries of  Canova,  and  of  the  revival,  are  now  forgot- 
ten. The  only  artists  of  those  times  still  regarded  with 
some  respect,  are,  Solemena,  who  died  in  1747  ;  Sebastian 
Conca,  in  1764 ;  and  Pompeo  Battoni,  who  brings  down 
the  history  of  the  art  to  1787  ;  Mengs  belongs  to  Germany. 

Over  the  living  art  of  Italy,  Camuccini  at  Rome,  and 
Benvenuti  at  Florence,  preside.  The  former  is  perhaps 
the  best  draughtsman  in  Europe,  but  is  inferior  as  a  color- 
ist ;  he  wants  depth,  harmony,  and  force ;  his  grouping 
also  is  defective  in  richness  and  variety,  approaching  too 
nearly  to  the  linear  as  in  relievo.  His  expression,  though 
noble,  is  cold  — ■  deficient  in  that  warm  gush  of  sentiment, 
which,  in  the  ancient  masters,  seemed  to  '  create  a  soul 
under  the  ribs  of  death.'  Benvenuti  excels  his  contempo- 
rary as  a  colorist,  in  the  disposition  of  his  group,  and  in 


154 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  force  of  chiar*  oscuro ;  but  in  purity  of  drawing,  in 
classical  taste,  and  in  the  selection  of  form,  he  is  infe- 
rior. Each  has  chosen  his  subjects  principally  from  pro- 
fane history.  Camuccini's  best  performance  is  the  De- 
parture of  Regulus ;  Benvenuti's  a  scene  in  the  recent 
history  of  Saxony.  Rome  possesses  several  other  good 
painters,  but  few  natives  —  for,  to  the  artist  as  to  the  poet 
of  every  nation,  she  has  become 

1  His  country  —  city  of  the  soul.' 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Trans-alpine  schools  of  painting  now  demand  at- 
tention. The  German  is  usually  divided  into  three  distinct 
schools  — the  German,  properly  so  called,  the  Flemish, 
and  the  Dutch.  These  distinctions  are  rather  local  than 
depending  upon  characteristic  difference  of  manner.  In- 
deed, prior  to  the  age  of  Durer,  the  only  style  discernible 
in  the  schools  is  that  named  Gothic,  common  more  or  less 
to  all  the  states  of  Europe,  but  especially  indigenous  in 
Germany.  The  expression,  then,  is  here  employed  not 
altogether  in  its  vague  and  generic  sense  of  anything  stiff 
and  formal  —  for  these  early  or  Gothic  pictures  exhibit  a 
specific  character  both  of  design  and  execution.  They  are 
painted  upon  wood,  usually  oak,  covered  sometimes  with 
canvass,  always  with  a  white  ground,  upon  which  the  out- 
line of  the  subject  is  sketched,  and  the  whole  overlaid  with 
gilding.  This  last  forms  the  real  grounding  of  the  picture, 
which  is  painted  in  water  or  size-color,  with  great  care 
and  diligence  of  finish,  often  with  considerable  felicity  of 


PAINTING. 


155 


effect,  and  always  with  more  of  the  simplicity  of  individual 
nature  than  occurs  in  any  other  works  of  the  same  age 
and  description.  This  early  school  terminated  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  from  the  more  general  diffusion  of  oil- 
painting  ;  its  principal  masters  were  Schoen,  the  Bon 
Martino  of  the  Italians,  born  in  1420,  painter  and  engraver ; 
Wohlgemuth,  the  instructer  of  Durer ;  and  Muiller,  or 
Kranach,  Burgomaster  of  Wittemberg,  and  friend  of  Lu- 
ther. But  the  prince  of  German  artists  is  Albert  Durer, 
born  at  Nuremberg  in  1471  —  the  Da  Vinci  of  this  school, 
as  excelling  in  science  and  in  art.  His  works  in  painting 
and  engraving  are  equally  admirable,  evincing  knowledge 
of  the  best  principles  of  imitation.  They  still  retain  a 
degree  of  constraint  —  a  remnant  of  the  Gothic  manner, 
of  which  the  habits  and  prejudices  of  his  countrymen, 
and  his  own  ignorance  of  the  antique,  prevented  the  re- 
moval. Want  of  dignified  design  and  grandeur  of  com- 
position, hard  and  meagre  outline,  are  his  defects  ;  truth, 
originality,  and  simplicity  of  thought,  good  coloring,  and 
the  invention,  or  at  least  perfecting,  of  etching  on  copper, 
form  his  contributions  to  the  arts.  His  contemporary, 
and,  in  portraits,  superior,  was  Holbein,  best  known  in 
England,  and  whose  works,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII., 
are  excellent  examples  of  the  school ;  his  successors,  in 
departing  from  the  national  style,  become  blended  with 
the  minor  Italian  masters  —  for  the  German  school  ceases 
to  be  original  or  distinct  when  it  ceases  to  be  Gothic. 
After  Schwartz  Rolenhamer,  and  others  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  who  painted  history  in  the  Italian  manner,  Ger- 
many sent  forth  chiefly  landscape  painters,  as  Bauer, 
Elzhaimer,  and  others,  who  finished  in  a  style  exquisitely 
delicate  and  natural. 

Commercial  wealth,  the  comparative  independence  and 
activity  which  always  accompany  industrious  enterprise, 


156 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


rendered  the  Flemish  cities,  from  a  very  early  period,  fa- 
mous in  painting.  In  fact,  many  of  their  most  lucrative 
branches  of  trade  —  tapestry,  embroidery,  jewellery  — 
depended  upon,  and,  as  in  the  Italian  republics,  aided  the 
progress  of  design.  Few  characteristics  of  a  national 
style,  however,  are  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  art  in  the 
Low  Countries,  as  distinct  from  Germany,  prior  to  the 
close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  To  John  of  Bruges,  bet- 
ter known  as  Van  Eyck,  a  Flemish  painter  about  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  has  been  ascribed 
the  discovery  of  oil  colors ,  but  though  the  discovery  ap- 
pears rather  to  have  been  a  gradual  improvement,  com- 
mencing from  a  much  earlier  date,  he  certainly  first 
brought  the  practice  into  general  use.  The  painters  of 
the  Flemish  and  Dutch  schools  were  thus  put  early  in 
possession  of  an  advantage,  contributing  principally  to 
the  distinguishing  qualities  of  art  in  these  countries  — 
fine  coloring  and  exquisite  finish.  The  method,  indeed, 
necessarily  introduced  these  properties,  as  may  also  be 
remarked  in  Italy,  where  the  Venetian  masters,  who  first 
obtained  the  secret,  continued  to  surpass,  as  they  had 
taken  the  lead,  in  sweetness  and  splendor  of  pencilling. 
Lucas  Van  Leyden  and  Mabeuse,  far  surpassed  Van 
Eyck,  and  indeed  rivalled  their  German  contemporaries/ 
Durer  and  Holbein ;  while,  in  the  subsequent  century, 
artists  are  numerous  who  carried  to  a  high  perfection  the 
characteristics  of  the  school  —  imitation  of  nature,  and 
wonderful  minuteness  of  finish  —  such  as  Brill,  Stenwyck, 
Spranger,  the  Brueghils,  and  Van  Veen. 

Rubens  was  born  of  an  honorable  family,  at  Antwerp, 
in  1577,  and  died  in  1640.  This  powerful  and  prolific 
artist,  whose  wTorks  are  abundantly  scattered  over  the 
whole  of  Europe,  gave  to  the  Flemish  school  the  consid- 
eration attendant  on  separate  and  dignified  character. 


PAINTING. 


157 


Had  Rubens,  indeed,  united  to  brilliancy  of  coloring,  ra- 
pidity of  composition,  and  splendor  of  general  effect,  the 
elevation  of  form  and  sentiment  which  ennoble  the  thoughts 
of  the  old  masters,  his  name  would  justly  have  ranked 
amongst  the  highest  in  art.  But  the  seductions  of  the 
Venetian,  and  the  bravura  of  the  Lombard  style,  had  for 
him  more  attraction  than  the  majesty  of  the  Florentine, 
or  the  grace  and  pathos  of  the  Roman  pencil.  There  is 
in  his  style,  however,  a  dexterous  compensation  for  defects, 
which,  more  than  in  any  other,  momentarily  seduces  the 
judgment  from  propriety.  His  defect  of  expression  is 
concealed  in  the  richness,  the  lavish  variety,  of  his  figures 
and  grouping ;  the  incorrectness  of  his  forms  is  forgotten 
in  beholding  their  almost  mobile  elasticity ;  the  absence 
of  lofty  interest  passes  unmarked  amid  the  striking  con- 
trasts and  picturesque  impressions  of  the  general  effect. 
Over  the  whole  is  thrown  the  most  gorgeous  coloring,  the 
play  of  reflected  lights,  the  magnificence  of  almost  shift- 
ing, yet  ever  harmonious  hues  and  luxuriance  of  orna- 
ment ;  —  like  the  golden  flood  from  the  stained  window, 
pouring  its  radiance  over  the  irregular  but  magical  com- 
binations of  the  Gothic  aisle.  The  landscapes  of  Rubens 
are  delightful ;  they  have  the  freshness,  the  clearness,  the 
variety  of  nature,  and  a  far  deeper  sentiment  of  her  beauty 
than  his  histories  or  portraits  — the  last,  indeed,  are  the 
least  meritorious  of  his ,  works.  But  we  sliall  qualify  or 
support  our  own  by  the  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
whose  summary  of  the  character  of  Rubens  is  as  follows : 
'  In  his  composition  his  art  is  too  apparent ;  his  figures 
have  expression,  and  act  with  energy,  but  without  sim- 
plicity or  dignity.  His  coloring,  in  which  he  is  eminently 
skilled,  is  notwithstanding  too  much  of  what  we  call 
tinted.  Throughout  the  whole  of  his  works,  there  is  a 
proportionable  want  of  that  nicety  of  distinction  and  ele- 
14 


158 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


gance  of  mind,  which  is  required  in  the  higher  walks  of 
painting ;  to  this  want,  it  may  in  some  degree  be  ascribed, 
that  those  qualities  that  make  the  excellence  of  this  sub- 
ordinate style,  appear  in  him  with  the  greatest  lustre.' 
The  Crucifixion  at  Antwerp  is  his  masterpiece ;  the  Alle- 
gories of  Mary  de  Medici  in  the  Louvre  his  largest  work ; 
but  some  of  the  most  finished  smaller  pictures  which  we 
have  seen  are  in  the  Rubens-gallery,  in  the  palace  of 
Frederic  at  Potzdam. 

The  contemporaries  of  Rubens  were  independent  mas- 
ters or  disciples.  Among  the  former  were  Van  Voss 
Strada,  Miel  Savary  Seegers ;  among  the  latter,  Snyders, 
Jordains,  Teniers,  and  especially  Vandyke.  Rather  later, 
lived  Schwaneveldt  in  landscape,  and  Neef  for  interiors, 
&c. ;  but  the  influence  of  the  principles  or  precepts  of 
Rubens  animated  the  whole  of  their  efforts.  In  point  of 
manner  and  subject,  Teniers  and  ,Vandyke  may  in  some 
measure  be  considered  as  forming  the  extremes  of  the 
Flemish  schools,  though  in  respect  of  merit  they  stand  in 
the  first  rank.  Teniers,  for  instance,  connects  the  Flem- 
ish with  the  Dutch  style,  being  more  elevated  in  the  gene- 
ral tone  of  his  conceptions  and  manner  than  the  latter, 
while  he  has  selected  a  less  dignified  walk  than  Rubens. 
He  has  painted  with  exquisite  truth,  and  very  great  beauty 
of  pencil,  the  customs,  scenes,  amusements,  and  charac- 
ter of  his  countrymen.  Vandyke,  again,  in  the  grace  and 
dignity  of  his  portraits,  in  the  intellectuality  of  his  expres- 
sion and  composition,  seems  to  effect  a  junction  between 
the  common  and  broad  nature  of  the  native  taste,  with 
the  ideal  of  Italian  art.  The  pictures  painted  by  Van- 
dyke during  the  early  period  of  his  residence  in  England, 
are  among  the  finest  specimens  of  portraiture.  Here,  in- 
deed, in  some  respects,  as  the  clearness  and  transparency 
of  his  carnations,  he  is  excelled  only  by  Titian, —  in  the 


PAINTING. 


159 


graceful  air  of  the  heads,  and  beautiful  drawing  of  the 
extremities,  he  reminds  us  of  Raphael,  —  while,  to  these 
qualities,  he  has  added  a  silvery  tone  of  pencilling, 
which,  more  so  than  in  any  other  master,  gives  back  the 
delicate  and  varied  hues  of  real  flesh  and  skin.  He  has 
hardly  succeeded  in  history,  more,  however,  from  want  of 
practice  than  genius  ;  for  his  alleged  want  of  fancy  seems 
not  so  apparent  as  has  been  supposed.  In  Vandyke,  we 
find  a  most  striking  proof  that  excellence  in  art  is  founded 
upon  no  abstract  theory  of  the  ideal,  but  in  selecting,  and 
sedulously  adhering  to,  some  one  view  of  nature  :  hence  — 
hence  alone, 

'The  soft  precision  of  the  clear  Vandyke.' 

What  Rubens  had  accomplished  for  the  Flemish  school 
in  giving  to  it  nationality  and  a  head,  Rembrandt  some 
time  after  conferred  upon  that  of  Holland ;  but  between 
the  two  cases  there  is  this  difference,  —  the  former  has 
identified  his  principles  and  reputation  with  the  whole  of 
succeeding  art  in  his  country, — -  these  principles,  also,  are 
founded  in  a  more  comprehensive  view  of  nature  and  of 
imitation ;  the  latter  has  merely  given  a  consistency  to  the 
scattered  details  and  individual  artists  of  the  Dutch  school, 
by  concentrating  attention  upon  one,  while  he  has  given 
a  singular  but  most  powerful  delineation  of  nature.  He 
stands  alone,  not  only  among  his  countrymen,  a  gigantic 
workman  among  the  minute  laborers  of  cabbages,  butch- 
ers' shops,  and  green-grocers'  stalls,  but  he  is  a  solitary 
master  in  the  schools  of  Europe.  The  style  of  Rembrandt 
it  is  easy  to  distinguish,  but  difficult  to  characterise.  It 
is  at  once  natural  and  highly  artificial  —  original,  yet  ex- 
cessively mannered.  It  is  natural :  for  every  object,  no 
matter  what,  is  represented  just  as  it  appears,  without  al- 
teration, improvement,  or  addition  —  but  the  medium  of 


160 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


visibility,  if  the  expression  may  be  allowed,  the  mode  in 
which  nature  is  exposed,  is  a  complete  artifice  ;  no  inventor 
was  ever  more  original  in  his  system,  but  none  less  varied 
in  its  application ;  —  if  we  have  seen  one  picture  of  Rem- 
brandt, we  riave  seen  all,  as  far  as  respects  his  principles, 
for  he  has  only  two.  In  his  practice  he  is  at  once  bold, 
even  to  coarseness,  and  elaborately  finished  —  his  coloring 
is  delicate,  yet  placed  frequently  in  lumps  upon  the  can- 
vass. But  to  attempt  a  positive  description  :  of  the  two 
principles  of  the  Dutch  master,  one  respects  the  manner 
of  delineating,  the  other  of  exhibiting,  nature.  He  appears 
to  have  regarded  art  as  without  power  or  control  over  the 
character  or  form  of  the  subject  —  these  were  to  be  most 
faithfully  preserved,  and  most  minutely  copied.  This 
formed  his  first  principle,  to  which  he  has  most  rigidly  ad- 
hered. But  as  natural  objects  present  different  modifica- 
tions in  appearance,  according  to  the  quantity  and  direc- 
tion of  the  light  which  falls  upon  them,  and  since  this  can 
be  artificially  varied  at  the  will  of  the  artist,  here  Rem- 
brandt fixed  his  second,  and  what  may  be  termed  his  ideal 
principle.  In  the  schools  of  Italy,  we  have  seen  that  the 
management  of  light  had  been  brought  to  very  great  per- 
fection, especially  by  Titian,  Corregio,  and  their  best  in- 
structed followers.  Their  method  was  diffusion  —  to  unite, 
by  secondary,  the  principal  lights,  and  both,  by  a  gradation 
of  under-tone,  with  the  darkest  shadows,  avoiding  strong 
contrasts.  Indeed,  the  Venetian  master  has  shown,  in  his 
practice,  that  strong  opposition,  neither  of  light  nor  color, 
was  necessary  to  powerful  effect ;  and  Corregio,  on  the 
same  principle,  has  painted  much  in  demi,  or  neutral  tone. 
These  precepts  Rubens  also  had  discovered  in  his  Italian 
studies,  and  afterwards  constantly  practised ;  Vandyke,  by 
the  same  method,  has  given  that  extraordinary  softness  and 
delicacy  which  sits  so  divinely  upon  his  female  counte- 


PAINTING.  161 

nances.  Rembrandt  pursued  a  method  directly  the  re- 
verse ;  he  concentrated  his  light  into  one  meteoric  blaze, 
directed  in  full  power  upon  one  spot  —  to  which  all  other 
forms  are  sacrificed  in  deep  gloom  —  and  upon  which  the 
whole  riches  of  his  palette  are  heaped.  He  placed  nature, 
as  it  were,  in  a  dungeon,  while,  through  one  solitary  loop- 
hole, the  beam  of  heaven  seems,  with  ten-fold  force,  to 
penetrate  to  the  object  of  the  artist's  immediate  contem- 
plation. This,  spreading  a  dazzling,  yet  solemn  light 
over  all,  invests  the  commonest  forms  with  an  unknown 
interest,  and  gives  to  the  grossest  and  most  unclassical 
imitation  an  elevated  and  romantic  character, — just  as 
the  uncertain  gloom  of  twilight  mantles  in  the  shadowy 
terrors  and  strange  shapes,  objects  the  most  familiar  in 
ordinary  day.  In  the  same  style  are  painted  the  land- 
scapes of  Rembrandt,  equally  valued,  and  more  true  than 
even  his  figures.  The  rest  of  the  Dutch  masters  have  little 
of  distinctive  excellence  ;  the  Imitation  of  all  is  wonderful 
in  its  fidelity,  minuteness,  and  beauty ;  but  human  talent, 
and  weeks  of  precious  time,  wasted  upon  a  cabbage  leaf, 
or  a  few  fish  upon  a  board,  is  after  all  but  a  melancholy 
theme,  which  we  shall  despatch  with  a  catalogue  of  names. 
Before  or  contemporary  with  Rembrandt,  who  died  in 
1674,  we  have  Hsemskirk,  Both,  Metzu,  Blsemart,  Breen- 
berg,  Polemberg,  Bhergem,  Cuyp,  Wynants,  Heem,  Mieris, 
Vangoyn,  Schalken,  Van  der  Neer,  Van  der  Warf.  A 
higher  class  of  artists  were  Wouvermans,  Laar,  and 
Gherard  Douw,  the  most  careful  of  painters.  These  and 
others  now  mentioned  placed  the  ideal  of  art  in  the  most 
scrupulous  delineation  of  nature  —  the  most  elaborate  truth 
and  transparent  coloring ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied,  that 
they  approached  their  ideal  nearer  than  did  the  Italian 
masters  to  theirs.  But  more  glory  accrued  from  the  at- 
tempt than  in  the  success. 
14* 


162 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


The  arts  of  the  Low  Countries,  so  long  an  appsndage 
of  the  crown  of  Spain,  naturally  lead  to  those  of  that  king- 
dom. No  regular  Spanish  school  of  painting  appears  at 
any  time  to. have  existed,  though  the  art  has  been  very 
successfully  practised  by  numerous  artists.  Of  these  the 
chief  are  Velasquez,  equally  eminent  in  history  and  por- 
trait ;  and  Murillo,  a  delightful  colorist,  and  distinguished 
for  natural  feeling,  though  often  vulgar,  and  rarely  digni- 
fied, in  his  choice  of  forms.  He  is  the  most  original  of  all 
the  great  masters  of  Spain,  who  have  generally  been  in- 
debted to  Italy.  Morales,  Herrera,  with  many  others, 
might  be  mentioned,  but  we  have  not  seen  their  works. 
The  principal  seats  of  painting,  in  Spain,  were  Madrid 
and  Seville ;  the  school  holds  intermediate  rank  between 
those  of  Venice  and  Flanders  —  its  chief  beauty  is  truth 
of  character,  natural  expression  and  fine  coloring,  correct, 
but  not  elevated,  design. 

In  France,  or  by  French  artists,  painting  has  been 
practised  with  much  individual  success  ;  and  though 
academies  have  been  formed,  and  government  protection 
long  and  liberally  afforded,  it  would  yet  be  difficult  exactly 
to  describe  in  what  the  characteristics  of  the  national  style 
of  art  in  France  consist.  In  that  country,  taste^  as  respects 
painting,  has  fluctuated  more,  and  from  the  first  has  been 
less  deeply  impressed  with  original  traits,  than  as  regards 
any  other  of  the  fine  arts.  Voltaire  has  remarked,  that  a 
people  may  have  a  music  and  poetry  pleasing  only  to 
themselves,  and  yet  both  good ;  but  in  painting,  though 
their  genius  may  be  peculiar,  it  can  be  genuine  only  as  it 
is  agreeable  to,  and  prized  by,  all  the  world.  Tried  by 
this  rule,  French  painting  seems  to  be  neither  correct  nor 
pleasing,  and  it  is  not  universal,  that  is  inventive,  in  its 
peculiarity  of  manner.  In  her  early  efforts,  France  was 
indebted  to  Italy,  and  in  her  subsequent  labors  the  Italian 


PAINTING. 


163 


method  of  design  has  prevailed ;  indeed,  her  artists  have 
here  rather  copied  than  imitated,  adding,  no  doubt,  what 
have  been  termed  les  graces  Francoises  —  an  expression 
ill-naturedly,  but  not  without  truth,  translated,  J  French 
grimaces.'  It  is  rare,  perhaps  impossible,  to  find  origin- 
ality where  taste  has  not  been  naturally,  and  to  a  consid- 
erable extent,  cultivated  prior  to  the  introduction  of  ex- 
trinsic knowledge.  Art  borrowed  in  a  state  of  forward- 
ness, can  receive  no  new  nor  valuable  modifications  from 
unskilful  hands  and  unpractised  fancy.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  thought  has  been  independently  exercised, 
refinement,  engrafted  upon  its  bold,  though  perhaps  rude 
strength,  will  receive  novel  combinations  and  freshness  of 
character  ;  while  the  reception  of  more  perfect  modes  in  the 
same  walk,  will  but  improve  the  faculties,  without  oppress- 
ing the  powers,  of  native  genius.  Again,  the  fluctuations 
of  painting  observable  during  its  progress  in  France,  ap- 
pear to  have  arisen  chiefly  from  the  influence  which 
favorite  masters  have  been  able  to  exercise  over  the  art 
universally  in  that  country.  Nor  has  the  influence  often 
been  that  of  pure  talent.  .  Court  intrigue,  during  the  most 
favorable  epochs,  has  raised  to  court  employment,  and  con- 
sequently to  pre-eminence  in  the  honors  and  emoluments 
of  his  profession,  some  individual,  who  thus  became  pos- 
sessed of  the  means  of  rendering  his  brethren  eager  to 
obtain  his  countenance  by  imitation  of  his  style.  Thus 
we  have  the,  schools  of  Vouet,  of  Le  Brun,  of  David,  dis- 
tinguished merely  by  adherence  to  the  particular  manner 
of  these  masters;  with  some  exception  in  the  last,  which 
is  founded  most  on  general  principles.  This,  however,  is 
only  an  effect  growing  out  of  a  far  more  general  cause  of 
imperfection  in  French  art,  namely,  the  absence  of  all 
true  national  interest.  Among  the  French,  painting  has 
hitherto,  during  the  most  prosperous  periods,  formed  the 


164 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


amusement  or  the  luxury  of  their  rulers ;  though  as  con- 
tributing to  the  external  pomp,  splendor,  and  show  of  their 
'  monarchies  the  people  have  been  trained  to  applaud. 
There  never  has  been  mutual  sympathy  between  the  artist 
and  his  countrymen ;  he  drew  his  encouragement,  and 
looked  for  his  reward,  from  other  and  far  less  ennobling 
inspiration  than  their  praise.  That  incense  which  not  un- 
frequently  was  really  kindled  at  the  Muses'  flame,  was 
burnt  before  the  idols  set  up  by  a  despot,  instead  of  being 
offered  to  the  majesty  of  national  feeling.  In  confirmation 
of  these  remarks,  so  congenial  with  the  whole  history  of 
art  as  an  intellectual  attainment,  we  have  only  to  refer  to 
the  reigns  of  Louis  XIII.,  XIV.,  XV. ;  more  especially  of 
the  second,  whose  selfish  glory,  the  pursuit  of  his  entire 
life,  converted  the  most  splendid  of  the  arts  into  a  vehicle 
of  adulation,  through  fulsome  and  direct  flattery,  or  glaring 
and  far-fetched  allegory.  If,  during  the  recent  order  of 
things,  more  respect  was  paid  to  real  merit,  and  less  to 
cabal  than  formerly,  the  same,  nearly,  was  the  isolation  of 
the  art  from  popular  enthusiasm  —  it  was  still  under  the 
same  thraldom  to  the  cold  and  selfish  aggrandisement  of  an 
individual ;  or,  where  this  object  seemed  more  directly 
connected  with  national  exultation,  the  art  was  exercised 
on  a  theme,  whose  violent  and  artificial  aspect  is,  through- 
out, unvaried,  entirely  destructive  of  natural  expression 
and  discrimination  of  character.  The  gold  and  glitter  of 
military  portraits  —  the  unromantic  combinations  of  mod- 
ern warfare,  with  its  mechanical  levelling  of  distinctive 
peculiarities,  were  little  calculated  to  rectify  —  they  in- 
creased —  the  errors  and  the  wants  of  French  painting  ; 
while  that  which  is  absolutely  good  was  derived  from  the 
colder  forms  of  sculpture. 

The  most  ancient  labours  of  the  art  in  France  appear 
to  have  been  on  glass,  and,  as  in  every  other  country, 


PAINTING. 


165 


dedicated  to  the  service  of  religion.  Of  these  primitive 
specimens,  many  still  remain  of  considerable  beauty,  as 
in  the  church  of  St  Genevieve  at  Paris.  Another  method, 
common  also  to  Germany,  and  which,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  had  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  regular  and 
important  branch  of  ingenuity,  was  a  species  of  enamel, 
formed  by  the  fusion  of  metallic  colors  with  glass.  Of 
this  method,  many  remains  of  surprising  beauty  occur  in 
the  early  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which,  with  the 
Gothic  paintings  already  described,  seem  to  have  exercised 
the  ingenuity  of  his  subjects,  till  the  exertions  of  Fran- 
cis I.  for  their  improvement  brought  artists  from  Italy. 
Among  these  was  the  great  Leonardo,  who  died  at  Fon- 
tainbleau,  in  the  arms  of  this  monarch,  in  1524,  and 
before  he  had  exercised  his  pencil  in  France.  Copies  of 
his  works,  especially  of  the  Last  Supper,  were  executed 
for  Francis,  who  was  desirous  of  carrying  off  the  origi- 
nal with  the  wall  upon  which  it  is  painted,* 

The  intervening  period  from  the  death  of  Francis  to 
the  commencement  of  the  seventeenth  century,  torn  by 
religious  dissension,  distracted  by  the  heartless  intrigue, 
and  still  more  heartless  massacres  perpetrated  by  the  Cath- 
olic party,  threw  France  back  in  the  career  of  improve- 
ment. The  splendid  reign  of  Henry  of  Navarre  was 
favorable  indeed  both  to  the  fine  and  useful  arts ;  but,  as 
in  the  former  age,  foreign,  and  principally  Flemish  artists, 
were  employed.  The  imbecile  Louis  XIII.  has  the  credit 
of  having  first  formed  a  native  school  of  painting,  or  rather, 
perhaps,  in  this  reign,  advantage  was  first  taken  of  those 
various  circumstances  which  had  gradually  been  forming 
both  skill  and  taste  in  France.    This,  like  every  other 


*  The  best  of  these  confirm  the  former  remarks  on  this  accom- 
plished artist. 


166 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


measure  of  the  same  period,  is  to  be  attributed  to  the 
prime  minister,  Richelieu,  founder  also  of  the  Academy. 
This  was  the  source  whence  were  supplied  the  artists  of 
the  succeeding  reign,  who  were  principally  disciples  of 
Vouet,  the  first  French  master  of  eminence,  born  in  1582, 
but  whose  merits  in  the  nobler  walks  of  art  would  not 
otherwise  entitle  him  to  notice. 

The  glory,  not  only  of  this  period,  but  of  the  history 
of  French  art,  is  Nicholas  Poussin  — the  classic  and  the 
virtuous  Poussin.  To  his  contemporaries,  however,  or  to 
the  retainers  in  the  halls  of  Louis,  he  did  not  properly 
belong.  Born  in  1594,  he  had  formed  his  taste  by  a 
residence  of  nearly  twenty  years  in  Italy,  before  he  was 
invited,  in  1639,  to  a  pension  and  an  apartment  in  the 
Tuileries.  From  the  cabals  of  a  court,  and  the  petty 
jealousy  of  the  inferior  Vouet,  he  fled  beyond  the  Alps  to 
his  own  loved  Rome,  never  to  return.  There  he  con* 
versed  more  with  antiquity  than  with  living  men.  Thence 
originated  the  grand  defect  of  his  style.  '  We  never/  says 
a  moralist,  '  live  out  of  our  age,  without  missing  some- 
thing which  our  successors  will  wish  we  had  possessed/ 
This  is  especially  true  in  the  present  instance.  The 
characteristics  of  the  works  of  Poussin  are  extreme  cor- 
rectness of  form  and  costume,  great  propriety  in  keeping, 
and  the  most  enchanting  simplicity  of  design.  These 
beauties  he  derived  from  constant  study  and  deep  knowl- 
edge of  ancient  sculpture.  While  he  thus  followed  closely 
one  of  the  sources  of  excellence,  he,  however,  neglected 
the  other,  and,  in  painting,  the  more  important — nature. 
Hence  the  frequent  want  of  interest  —  the  defects  of  ex- 
pression —  the  cold  and  sombre  coloring  —  the  absence  of 
that  breathing  similitude  which  animates  even  the  subjects 
of  his  intense  contemplation.  But  the  ancient  sculptors 
were  not  satisfied  with  nature  at  second-hand  — the  great 


PAINTING. 


167 


cause  of  failure  in  the  painter.  The  perfections  of  their 
statues  he  transferred  to  his  canvass,  forgetting  that  these 
were  copied  from  men.  In  the  choice  of  his  subject,  and 
manner  of  representing  its  incidents,  Poussin  has  few 
equals ;  in  his  pictures,  too,  there  is  always  a  most  charm- 
ing harmony  of  thought  —  the  scene  —  the  figures  —  the 
handling  —  even  the  forms  of  inanimate  objects  in  his 
lanscapes,  all  have  an  antique  air,  transporting  the  imagi- 
nation into  an  ideal  world.  Hence,  of  all  those  who  have 
made  the  attempt,  Poussin  has  best  succeeded  in  classical 
allegory. 

Louis  XIV;,  who  commenced  his  reign  in  1643,  resolved 
to  complete  the  intentions  of  his  predecessor,  in  giving  to 
France  a  school  of  native  artists ;  and,  by  the  institution 
of  academies,  conferring  rewards,  and  raising  to  honors, 
so  far  accomplished  his  purpose,  as  respected  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  art  by  Frenchmen,  to  a  very  considerable  ex- 
tent. The  school,  however,  thus  created,  was  composed 
of  imitators  in  their  profession,  and  flatterers  of  their  royal 
patron.  True,  vigorous,  original  genius,  lives  not  to  be 
called  forth  at  the  smile  of  a  monarch,  nor  by  permission 
to  display  its  powers  in  painted  panegyrics  on  the  walls  of 
a  palace.  As  well  might  we  expect,  in  the  artificial  at- 
mosphere of  the  hothouse,  the  strength,  and  beauty,  and 
freshness,  which  bloom  amid  glades  and  groves,  freely  vis- 
ited by  the  pure  breath  of  heaven. 

"the  great  master  of  this  school  was  Le  Brun,  for  so 
the  Scotch  name  of  Brown,  from  a  family  of  which  name 
he  was  descended,  has  been  translated.  He  was  born  in 
1619,  of  a  family  long  attached  to  the  practice  of  the 
arts,  and  became  the  favorite  pupil  of  Vouet,  whose  pre- 
cepts in  many  respects  he  too  faithfully  retained.  Yet  Le 
Brun  had  good  capabilities,  —  a  lively  fancy,  great  dex- 
terity of  hand,  and  not  unfrequently  noble  conceptions. 


168 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


But  in  all  things  he  is  too  artificial  —  a  defect  never  re- 
deemable by  any  display  even  of  the  most  splendid  tech- 
nical qualities.  In  the  paintings  of  Le  Brun,  the  want  of 
simplicity  is  conspicuous  in  the  forced  attitudes  of  his 
figures,  and  in  their  too  systematic  expression.  Both 
these  imperfections  have  resulted  from  the  same  cause  — 
neglect  of  nature,  neglect  operating  by  different  effects. 
In  the  former  case,  the  artist  has  designed  too  much 
from  memory,  or  —  a  common  fault,  we  should  be  in- 
clined "to  say,  in  French  art  —  has  taken  his  attitudes 
from  the  theatre.  In  the  second,  it  is  easy  to  perceive, 
that  he  aimed  at  reducing  trie  infinite  and  minute  chan- 
ges of  expression  to  a  theory  of  academic  rules ;  indeed, 
his  pictures  are  but  commentaries,  in  this  respect,  upon 
his  celebrated  treatise  on  the  Passions.  The  color- 
ing in  these  performances  is  glaring,  without  firmness  of 
shadow,  and  the  local  tones  are  false  ;  hence  the  general 
effect  is  shallow,  with  a  monotony  of  hue,  arising,  not  so 
much  from  want  of  variety  in  the  tints,  as  from  error  in 
keeping.  The  best  works  of  Le  Brun  are  the  five  grand 
pictures  from  the  life  of  Alexander,  which,  notwithstand- 
ing the  defects  inherent  in  his  style,  are  productions  of 
dignity  and  grandeur,  exhibiting  great  fertility  both  of 
composition  and  of  resource  in  mechanic  art  ;  but  surely 
Voltaire  must  intend  his  assertion  to  be  restricted  to 
France,  when  he  says,  that  engravings  of  these  paintings 
are  more  sought  after  than  those  of  the  battles  of  Con- 
stantine,  by  Raphael  and  Julio  Romano. 

The  truth  of  the  preceding  remarks  on  the  causes 
which  have  contributed,  in  France,  to  the  mediocrity  of 
painting,  is  placed  in  a  striking  view  by  the  tyranny,  the 
absolute  despotism,  in  which  Le  Brun  was  enabled  to  lord 
it  over  his  contemporaries,  whether  painters,  sculptors,  or 
architects.    Every  one  was  forced  to  become  the  obser- 


PAINTING. 


169 


vant  servitor  of  him  whom  the  court  favored,  or  enjoyed 
the  option  of  remaining  unemployed.  Such  was  the  fate 
of  Le  Sueur,  not  merely  the  superior  of  Le  Brun,  but, 
with  the  exception  of  Poussin,  to  whom  even  in  some  res- 
pects he  is  more  than  equal,  the  best  painter  France  has 
ever  produced  —  the  sole  one  in  whose  works  are  found 
natural  simplicity  and  repose.  He  took  Raphael  for  his 
model,  whose  feeling,  sober  grace,  and  internal  dignity, 
do  not  contribute  even  now  to  render  his  imitation  popular. 
If  Le  Sueur  were  less  frequently  inferior  to  himself,  he 
would  have  stood  in  the  first  rank  of  his  profession,  though 
he  died  in  1655,  at  the  early  age  of  thirtyeight.  Bour- 
don, Valentin,  and  Megnard,  were  also  contemporaries, 
and  in  some  respects  equals,  of  Le  Brun. 

To  this  period,  though  only  by  chronology,  and  to 
France  merely  by  birth,  belongs  Claude  Gelee,  better 
known  as  Claude  Lorrain,  from  his  native  province,  where 
he  was  born  in  1600,  dying  in  his  88th  year  at  Rome, 
where  he  resided  during  the  greater  part  of  the  reigns  of 
Louis  XIII.  and  XIV.,  having  never  crossed  the  Alps 
after  leaving  home  as  the  runaway  apprentice  of  a  pastry- 
cook. To  this  artist,  self-taught,  and  at  first  apparently 
more  than  commonly  incapable,  landscape  painting  owes 
its  interest  and  its  loveliness  as  a  separate  and  dignified 
branch  of  art.  In  the  sweetest,  as  in  the  most  brilliant, 
effects  of  light  —  from  the  first  blush  of  day  to  the  fall  of 
dewy  eve,  Claude  is  unrivalled,  or  even  unapproached,  if 
in  one  or  two  instances  we  except  our  own  Wilson.  The 
aerial  perspective,  and  the  liquid  softness  of  the  tones,  in 
his  pictures,  —  the  leafing,  forms,  and  branching  of  the 
trees,  the  light  flickering  clouds,  the  transparency  of  hue, 
the  retiring  distances,  all  make  as  near  approaches  to  na- 
ture as  it  is  possible  for  art  to  accomplish.  Still  there  is 
one  grand  defect  in  the  representations  of  Claude,  which 
15 


170 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


to  a  degree  destroys  the  natural  effect  of  their  constituent 
features  ;  —  they  are  too  frequently  compositions,  or  what 
are  termed  heroic  landscape.  This  certainly  heightens 
the  charm  merely  as  respects  the  imagination,  but  detracts 
from  the  still  deeper  interests  of  reality.  For  this  prac- 
tice, which,  indeed,  is  too  common  with  landscape  paint- 
ers, there  can  be  found  also  no  plea,  till  it  has  been  proved 
that  the  majesty  and  variety  of  nature  are  unequal  to  the 
powers  of  the  pencil. 

The  French  painters  of  the  eighteenth  century  were 
numerous,  and  on  the  whole  superior  to  those  of  the  same 
era  in  Italy.  Throughout  the  whole,  however,  we  detect 
the  principles  of  the  school  of  Louis  XIV.,  as  respects 
the  individual  qualities  of  the  art ;  while  in  the  philoso- 
phy of  taste,  more  especially  as  affects  painting,  are  dis- 
coverable the  effects  of  the  mechanical  and  systematic 
criticism  —  the  mere  pedantry  of  learning,  which,  origi- 
nating with  the  writers  of  that  age,  spread  over  Europe, 
nor,  in  art,  is  yet  entirely  exploded.  Cases  is  one  of  the 
most  eminent  of  native  artists,  who  was  overlooked  during 
his  lifetime ;  but  what  is  the  meaning  of  Voltaire's  remark 
on  this  artist?  '  Chaque  nation  cherche  a  se  faire  valoir; 
les  Francjais  font  valoir  les  autres  nations  en  tout  genre.' 
The  taste  of  this  writer  in  the  fine  arts  is  not  less  contempt- 
ible than  in  the  principles  of  nobler  literature,  and  in  re- 
ligion. The  tawdry  nudities  which  we  have  seen  still 
suspended  in  the  Salle  de  Tableaux,  at  Ferney,  are  a 
practical  testimony  of  the  one  fact ;  and,  place  serving,  it 
would  be  no  difficult  matter  to  prove  the  other,  or  rather, 
we  trust,  it  needs  no  exposition.  Santerre  studied  na- 
ture, designs  with  correctness,  and  colors  agreeably,  but 
he  rises  not  above  mediocrity  ;  nor  will  it  be  admitted,  as 
asserted  by  his  countrymen,  that  his  picture  of  Adam  and 
Eve  is  one  of  the  best  in  modern  art.    The  two  Parrocels 


PAINTING. 


171 


and  Bourgoyn  painted  combats,  chiefly  of  horsemen.  Jou- 
venet  shows  talent  in  design,  but  colors  too  yellow ;  is 
remarkable  as  having  painted  in  old  age  with  his  left  hand. 
Rigaud  is  called  the  French  Rubens.  Le  Moine,  in  the 
Apotheosis  of  Henry  IV.  at  Versailles,  has  left  a  striking 
and  well-colored  composition,  but  one  of  those  incongruous 
allegories,  which,  during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  formed  the  besetting  sin  of  French  art.  La 
Fosse,  the  two  Boulognes,  De  Troy,  Raous,  Tremoilliere, 
and  especially  Vanloo,  in  history ;  Vateau,  in  grotesque 
subjects ;  Desportes  and  Audry,  in  animals ;  Vernet,  the 
admirable  marine  painter,  with  others  of  less  note,  bring 
down  our  researches  to  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 

The  founder  and  the  representative  of  the  modern 
French  school  is  David.  Born  in  1750,  he  early  saw  and 
forsook  the  conventional  feebleness,  and,  to  a  great  de- 
gree, the  false  glare,  of  contemporaries,  and  thus  merits 
the  appellation  of  restorer  of  art.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, he  engaged  in  other  revolutions  than  those  of  taste, 
and  participated  too  largely  in  the  atrocities  which  dese- 
crated the  close  of  last  century.  As  one  of  the  regicides, 
he  was,  at  the  restoration,  driven  into  exile  —  a  useless 
severity,  which  might  have  been  spared  in  favor  of  one 
who  has  contributed  largely  to  the  solid  glory  of  his  coun- 
try. He  died  at  Brussels  in  1825.  The  leading  defect 
of  preceding  art  in  France,  is  a  want  of  dignified  and 
correct  form  ;  next,  of  simple  and  natural  expression. 
The  former  the  genius  of  David  detected,  and  sought  to 
apply  the  remedy  in  the  careful  study  of  antique  sculp- 
ture. In  this  he  has  been  far  from  unsuccessful ;  his 
drawing  is  most  correct,  his  style  of  design  noble,  but 
both  are  cold  and  without  feeling.  The  second  defect 
David  either  did  not  discover,  or  has  failed  in  rectifying. 
The  system  which  he  pursued  was  in  part  excellent,  but 


172 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


he  followed  it  too  exclusively.  Statuary  can  give  little  to 
painting  beyond  form  and  proportion  —  the  essentials,  in- 
deed —  but  expression,  action,  not  less  true  and  dignified, 
but  more  varied,  and  composition,  not  to  mention  coloring, 
must  be  added  from  nature.  Here  David  has  failed.  He 
either  conceived  that  the  artists  who  preceded  him  wanted 
only  form  to  render  French  art  perfect,  or  that,  by  group- 
ing the  statuary  of  ancient  Greece  in  more  violent  and 
complicated  action,  and  with  more  vehemence  of  expres- 
sion, pictures  would  be  produced,  such,  to  use  his  own 
words,  '  that  if  an  Athenian  were  to  return  to  this  world, 
they  might  appear  to  him  the  works  of  a  Greek  painter.' 
Like  Poussin,  then,  he  lived  too  much  for  antiquity,  and 
too  little  with  the  present ;  but  if  Poussin  has  often  given 
to  representations  of  the  most  perfect  art,  instead  of  de- 
lineations of  nature,  he  has  at  least  depicted  antiquity  as 
it  is,  in  all  its  simplicity  and  perfect  repose.  David  has 
not  done  this ;  he  has  completely  changed,  nay,  inverted, 
the  character  of  ancient  art,  by  adding  exaggerated  ex- 
pression and  forced  attitude.  The  coloring  is  also  very 
indifferent ;  for  though  highly  finished,  the  effect  is  hard 
and  dry,  without  sweetness  or  depth ;  and  while  the  gen- 
eral tone  inclines  to  the  bronze  or  metallic,  the  local  tints 
are  feeble  or  untrue.  Here,  likewise,  we  discover  an  en- 
deavor at  improvement  failing  through  neglect  of  the  pro- 
per object  of  study.  Wishing  to  avoid  the  glaring  hues 
of  his  predecessors,  David  has  fallen  into  the  opposite 
extreme  from  overlooking  the  living  subject.  The  group- 
ing, too,  participates  in  the  meagreness  inseparable  from 
the  system,  the  arrangement  of  the  figures  often  approach- 
ing to  the  basso-relievo,  where  they  necessarily  stand  in 
lines,  while,  to  relieve  the  sameness  thus  produced,  the 
forms  are  violently  and  ungracefully  contrasted  in  them- 
selves.   Of  this  a  striking  instance  occurs  in  the  famous 


PAINTING.  173 

picture  of  the  Horatii,  who  are  ranged  rank  and  file, 
receding  from  the  spectator,  so  that  only  one  is  completely 
seen,  the  heads  of  the  others  being  in  profile,  each  with 
an  arm  and  foot  extended,  one,  by  way  of  variety,  reach- 
ing forth  his  left  hand  to  take  the  oath  dictated  by  the 
father,  who  stands  on  the  opposite  side  !  Without  doubt, 
however,  David  was  a  man  of  great  genius,  and  when  he 
errs,  it  is  more  through  defect  of  system  than  of  talent ; 
but  the  former  being  his  own  creation,  he  stands  respon- 
sible for  its  faults.  Besides  that  just  quoted,  his  best  per- 
formances are  Leonidas  with  the  Spartans  at  Thermopylae, 
one  of  the  best  colored  of  his  pictures,  but  the  figure  of 
the  chief  wants  majesty  ;  the  Death  of  Socrates  is  desti- 
tute of  that  solemnity  of  repose,  yet  activity  of  feeling, 
which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  associate  with  the 
scene;  the  Funeral  of  Patroclus  —  a  fine  antique  compo- 
sition, but  French  in  feeling ;  the  Coronation  of  Napo- 
leon —  a  splendid  failure  ;  the  Rape  of  the  Sabines  — 
much  fine  drawing,  and  the  usual  share  of  bustle  —  ex- 
pression extravagant,  yet  cold.  In  portrait,  as  might  have 
been  anticipated  from  the  range  of  his  studies,  David  was 
unequal  to  himself.  His  best  performances  in  this  walk 
are  the  numerous  likenesses  of  his  imperial  patron.  We 
have  seen  the  original  sketch  for  one  of  these,  which  in- 
deed was  never  afterwards  touched,  taken  during  the  last 
few  hours  of  undiminished  power  possessed  by  Napoleon 
in  Paris.  The  greater  part  of  the  preceding  day  and 
night  had  been  spent  in  arranging  the  final  operations  of 
the  campaign  which  terminated  in  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
When  now  past  midnight,  instead  of  retiring  to  repose, 
the  emperor  sent  for  David,  to  whom  he  had  promised  to 
sit,  and  who  was  in  waiting  in  an  apartment  of  the  Tui- 
leries.  '  My  friend,'  said  Napoleon  to  the  artist,  on  en- 
tering, <  there  are  yet  some  hours  till  four,  when  we  are 
15* 


174 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


finally  to  review  the  defences  of  the  capital ;  in  the  mean- 
time, faites  votre possible  —  (do  your  utmost),  while  I  read 
these  despatches/  But  exhausted  nature  could  hold  out  no 
longer ;  the  paper  dropt  from  the  nerveless  hand,  and 
Napoleon  sunk  to  sleep.  In  this  attitude  the  painter  has 
represented  him.  The  pale  and  lofty  forehead,  the  care- 
worn features,  the  relaxed  expression,  the  very  accompa- 
niments, wear  an  impress  inexpressibly  tender  and  melan- 
choly. With  the  dawn  Napoleon  awoke,  and  springing 
to  his  feet,  was  about  to  address  David,  when  a  taper  just 
expiring  in  the  socket  arrested  his  eye.  Folding  his  arms 
on  his  breast,  a  usual  posture  of  thought,  he  contemplated 
in  silence  its  dying  struggles.  When  with  the  last  gleam 
the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  penetrated  through  the  half 
closed  window-curtains,  '  Were  I  superstitious/  said  Na- 
poleon, a  faint  smile  playing  about  his  beautiful  mouth, 
'  the  first  object  on  which  my  sight  has  rested  this  day 
might  be  deemed  ominous ;  but/  pointing  to  the  rising 
sun,  '  the  augury  is  doubtful  —  at  least,  the  prayer  of  the 
Grecian  hero  will  be  accorded,  —  we  shall  perish  in 
light!' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  history  of  Painting  in  England  embraces  only  a 
very  recent  period  in  the  annals  of  the  art.  But  though 
chronologically,  as  well  as  from  the  peculiar  interest  of 
the  subject,  it  is  to  be  treated  last,  this  arrangement  is  not 
adopted  from  the  same  motive  as  actuates  foreign  critics, 


PAINTING. 


175 


namely,  the  alleged  inferiority  of  British  painting.  It  has 
been  shown,  we  trust  satisfactorily,  that  in  the  real  condi- 
tion of  taste,  in  the  modes  of  practice  and  in  the  princi- 
ples of  theory,  our  school  of  Sculpture,  though  not  equal 
in  specimens  yet  produced,  is  superior  to  every  other,  not 
only  now,  but  formerly,  in  Europe.  In  favor  of  our  paint- 
ers, we  go  further  —  and  yet  net  so  far.  Pictures,  and  in 
more  than  one  branch,  painted  in  this  country,  and  by 
native  living  artists,  can  be  produced  superior  to  any  con- 
temporary examples  in  any  part  of  the  Continent ;  but, 
in  its  theoretic  principles,  and  in  the  practice  introduced 
in  consequence  of  these,  the  English  school  has  sadly  de- 
parted from  the  perfect  labours  and  just  science  of  the  old 
masters.  This  has  arisen  from  following  a  course  in  some 
respects  opposite  to  that  which  has  been  adopted  in  sculp- 
ture, as  shall  hereafter  be  the  endeavor  to  point  out. 
Again,  if  we  review  our  early  history,  it  appears,  that  in 
the  ages  immediately  subsequent  to  the  revival  of  art,  na- 
tive artists  in  this  country,  in  the  ingenious  processes  then 
known,  were  not  inferior  to  contemporary  names  in  Italy, 
France,  or  Germany.  It  is  sufficient  here  merely  to  refer 
to  Walpole's  interesting  work ;  in  which  it  is  shown,  that 
before  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  two  hundred 
years  prior  to  Van  Eyck,  evidences  are  found  of  oil-paint- 
ing in  England ;  and  that  in  the  fourteenth,  painting  on 
glass,  heraldic  emblazonment,  the  illumination  of  manu- 
scripts, with  all  the  similar  approaches  to  elegance  then 
practised,  were  cultivated  among  our  ancestors,  and  by 
natives  whose  names  are  preserved,  with  equal  success  as 
elsewhere. 

Causes,  therefore,  originating  in  the  moral  ^nd  political 
condition  of  the  people,  can  alone  explain  the  striking  in- 
feriority of  English  art  during  the  period  of  greatest  splen- 
dor in  its  modern  history.    The  opinions,  indeed,  promul- 


176 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


gated  by  the  French  and  Italian  writers,  not  excepting 
Winklemann,  and  so  complacently  entertained  even  now 
on  the  Continent,  respecting  the  deleterious  influence  of 
climate  upon  English  genius,  are,  in  their  philosophy,  too 
contemptible  to  merit  serious  investigation.  Nor  are  simi- 
lar theories  of  our  own  and  other  authors  exempted  from 
this  censure,  which  ascribe  excellence,  as  for  instance  in 
ancient  Greece,  to  the  propitious  effects  of  the  same  phy- 
sical cause.  The  mighty  and  the  immortal  energies  of  the 
human  mind  are  independent  of  all  other  external  causes ; 
they  will  bear  up  against  all  other  external  pressure —  save 
moral  and  political  degradation. 

In  fact,  art  in  England  was  crushed  almost  in  its  cradle 
by  the  civil  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster.  Warfare  be- 
tween different  nations,  where  the  struggle  is  from  rivalry 
of  interests  or  empire,  rather  favors  the  developement  of 
national  talent ;  the  activity  of  martial  achievement  con- 
veys, through  all  the  relations  of  citizenship,  and  to  every 
field  of  honorable  exertion,  a  corresponding  vigor  and 
elasticity  of  mind  —  an  ardent  love  of  glory  and  of  coun- 
try—  raising  high  the  spirit  of  emulation,  yet  binding 
closer  the  ties  of  fellowship.  In  the  unhallowed  commo- 
tion of  civil  contest,  all  these  effects  are  reversed ;  while 
in  England,  the  desecration  of  country  consequent  on  such 
feuds  was  deeper  than  perhaps  in  any  other  instance  of 
modern  times,  from  religion,  which  in  other  states,  under 
like  unhappy  circumstances,  had  afforded  an  asylum  to 
arts  and  to  peace,  here  taking  part  with  the  combatants. 
These  political  divisions  healed,  religious  dissensions  broke 
in  upon  the  national  quiet,  at  a  time,  too,  when  a  taste  for 
the  fine  arts  was  gaining  ground  in  the  different  states  of 
Europe.  When  at  length  every  animosity  and  partial 
feeling  had  subsided  in  the  generous  consciousness  of 
being  Englishmen,  an  eager  thirst  for  nautical  enterprise 


PAINTING. 


177 


engaged  the  minds  of  the  subjects  of  Elizabeth  and  James. 
The  wealth,  security,  and  information  which  flowed  from 
these  exertions,  were  beginning  to  create  taste,  and  to 
provide  means  highly  favorable  to  the  future  progress  of 
painting.  The  predilections  of  Charles,  likewise,  as  also 
his  knowledge,  were  calculated  to  improve  and  to  direct 
in  the  best  manner  these  advantages.  The  collection  of 
pictures  which  he  formed  was  the  most  valuable  then  in 
Europe,  and  composed  of  pieces  especially  adapted  to  a 
national  gallery,  and  to  the  design  of  creating  a  native 
school.  The  most  eminent  artists  of  the  age,  invited  to 
his  court,  found  their  labors  at  once  skilfully  appreciated 
and  munificently  rewarded.  This  unfortunate  monarch 
had  the  satisfaction  to  perceive  the  refinement  beginning 
to  spread  among  his  subjects,  even  in  the  remotest  and 
least  opulent  portion  of  his  dominions.  In  Scotland, 
Jamieson,  born  at  Aberdeen,  in  1586,  and  pupil  of  Ru- 
bens, has  left,  in  the  universities  of  his  native  place  and 
elsewhere,  fruits  of  his  genius  which  by  no  means  show 
him  unworthy  of  the  appellation  of  the  Scottish  Vandyke. 
To  this  painter  Charles  sat,  and  further  distinguished  him 
by  peculiar  marks  of  royal  favor.  In  England,  painting 
was  naturally  still  more  flourishing  in  prospect ;  the  nobles 
imitated,  and  some  shared  in,  the  taste  of  their  sovereign, 
while  a  love  of  elegant  acquirement  was  generally  diffused. 
This  period,  also,  was  highly  favorable  to  a  new  and  as- 
piring epoch  in  English  art,  from  the  great  and  original 
acquirements  previously  made  in  poetry  and  elegant  litera- 
ture, which  both  prepared  the  public  mind  to  relish  similar 
displays  of  talent  in  a  cognate  branch ;  while  they  evinced 
and  cherished  that  creative  spirit  which  may  render  availa- 
ble the  introduction  of  improved  modes,  without  degenerat- 
ing into  imitation  in  its  own  efforts.  The  progress  of 
successful  art  in  Greece,  and  in  republican  Italy,  with  the 


178 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


absence  of  nationality  in  that  of  ancient  Rome  and  of 
modern  France,  exhibits  the  justice  of  the  remark,  and 
the  importance  of  the  acquisition.  The  reign  of  Charles, 
I.  thus  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  favorable 
periods  in  our  history  for  the  foundation  of  a  British  school 
of  art ;  indeed,  we  perceive  that  every  essential  towards 
this  had  been  accomplished.  The  fearful  concussions 
which  closed  in  blood  the  career  of  that  unhappy  monarch, 
while  they  shook  the  entire  realm  from  its  propriety,  prov- 
ed more  pernicious  to  the  cultivation  of  the  arts  of  ele- 
gance, than  has  usually  been  the  case  even  in  civil  com- 
motion. The  lowest  and  most  illiterate,  now  armed  with 
some  degree  of  power,  destroyed,  because  they  knew  not 
how  to  value ;  while  the  coarse  hypocrisy  and  more  dan- 
gerous cunning,  or  Nthe  stern  bigotry,  of  their  leaders, 
viewed  with  the  malignity  of  ignorance,  or  the  hatred  of 
party,  all  evidence  of  superior  refinement. 

In  thus  rapidly  reviewing  the  leading  causes  which  have 
concurred  to  retard  the  progress  of  early  art  in  this  coun- 
try, the  Reformation  has  been  merely  alluded  to  as  turning 
aside  attention  to  other  pursuits.  The  commonly  received 
opinion  which  makes  this  event  a  primary  and  permanent 
source  of  our  inferiority,  seems  to  rest  on  a  very  imperfect 
knowledge  of  facts.  When  the  glorious  doctrines  of  the 
Reformation  obtained  footing  in  England,  no  advance  had 
yet  been  effected  in  the  formation  of  a  native  school ;  the 
national  refinement  was  in  no  degree  prepared  for  the 
successful  cultivation  of  painting ;  nor  do  any  circumst  an- 
ces particularly  favorable  induce  the  belief,  that  had  the 
Catholic  continued  to  be  the  established  faith,  the  arts 
would  have  improved.  On  the  contrary,  though  the  num- 
ber of  pictures  would  doubtless  have  multiplied,  these,  as 
in  France  at  the  same  period,  and  under  circumstances 
incomparably  more  felicitous,  must  have  been  the  works 


PAINTING. 


179 


of  foreign  artists ;  consequently,  by  introducing  an  artifi- 
cial manner  before  any  national  character  of  art  had  been 
formed,  the  exoteric  taste  would,  in  all  probability,  have 
for  ever  bound  up  in  conventional  trammels,  the  freshness 
of  original  conception,  and  the  vigor  of  national  genius. 
Such  we  have  seen  to  be  the  invariable  effects  of  introdu- 
cing, instead  of  rearing,  art,  among  every  people  where 
the  experiment  has  been  attempted.  The  Reformation, 
by  restoring  to  the  human  mind  the  uncontrolled  exercise 
of  its  own  faculties,  by  unlocking  the  barriers  by  which 
the  will  and  the  powers  of  free  inquiry  had  been  imprison- 
ed, has  stamped  upon  every  British  institution,  as  upon 
every  effort  of  British  talent,  the  worth  and  the  manliness 
of  independent  character.  Our  Fine  Arts,  though  the 
last  to  feel,  do  at  length  experience  this  happy  influence. 

The  particular  views  entertained,  or  rather  taken  up 
without  examination,  have  led,  on  this  subject,  to  errone- 
ous conceptions,  both  of  the  existing  condition  of  art,  and 
of  the  state  of  royal  patronage.  Henry  VIII.  certainly 
endeavored  by  every  means  to  induce  the  most  esteemed 
painters  of  the  age  to  visit  his  court ;  while  the  encour- 
agement which  he  offered  was  not  only  continued,  but  in- 
creased with  more  ample  means,  after  the  Reformation 
had  commenced ;  as  far  as  his  influence  went,  there  was 
a  change  for  the  better.  But  his  was  neither  a  cultivated 
nor  a  natural  taste.  The  sentiment  was  merely  one  of 
rivalry,  stirred  up  by  imitation  of  his  contemporaries, 
Francis  I.  and  Charles  V.  His  subjects  and  courtiers, 
not  even  animated  by  such  factitious  impulse,  were,  gen- 
erally speaking,  still  less  qualified  to  assist  in  rearing  na- 
tional art.  Neither  did  there  exist,  in  any  other  form,  a 
previous  standard  of  characteristic  originality ;  a  most  im- 
portant consideration,  as  already  shown  —  for,  with  the 
exception  of  Surrey,  no  poet  of  genius  capable  of  giving 


180 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


to  taste  an  abiding  tone  of  nationality  had  yet  appeared. 
Under  these  circumstances,  had  the  importation  of  foreign 
art  —  and  it  is  clear  none  other  could  have  been  encour- 
aged—  taken  place  to  any  extent;  even  had  Raphael 
and  Titian  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  English  mon- 
arch, beyond  bare  possession,  their  works  would  have 
been  valueless  to  the  nation  ;  or  worse  —  they  would  have 
depressed,  by  an  unapproachable  model,  the  aspirings  of 
native  talent,  fixing  for  ever  our  arts  in  the  mediocrity  of 
imitation. 

The  opposition,  also,  which  the  Reformers  are  accused 
of  having  bent  against  the  practice  of  painting  has  been 
altogether  misrepresented.  Not  only  were  they  not  op- 
posed to  such  acquirements  in  their  proper  place,  but  the 
assurance  is,  that  they  viewed  such  accomplishments  with 
favor.  Among  the  earliest  Reformers,  the  movers  of  that 
emancipation  which  regenerated  a  portion,  and  made  des- 
potism more  tolerable  in  the  rest,  of  Europe,  were  to  be 
found  the  most  accomplished  minds  and  the  most  elegant 
scholarship  of  which  the  age  could  boast.  Indeed,  their 
superior  enlightenment  was  the  human  means  of  that  lib- 
erty, in  which  through  Christ  they  had  become  free.  For 
such  men  to  be  the  enemies  of  intelligence,  of  whatever 
description,  if  under  proper  guidance,  and  in  due  sub- 
serviency to  higher  knowledge,  was  to  place  obstacles  to 
the  spread  of  their  own  principles.  Hence  in  Germany 
and  in  the  Low  Countries,  the  fine  arts  were  admired  and 
patronised  by  the  leading  Reformers.  Holbein  came  to 
England  most  warmly  recommended  by  Luther,  who  has 
already  been  named  as  the  friend  of  other  contemporary 
artists.  In  one  respect,  the  Reformers  certainly  may  be 
said  to  have  been  hostile  to  art.  They  proscribed  the  in- 
troduction of  pictures  into  their  churches.  To  this  prohi- 
bition only,  extended  the  penal  statutes  of  Henry,  Edward, 


PAINTING. 


181 


and  Elizabeth,  about  which  so  much  outcry  has  been 
raised.  No  proscription,  no  interdict  against  religious 
paintings  merely  as  such,  was  agitated,  till  the  period  al- 
ready alluded  to  as  the  most  truly  disastrous  to  national 
refinement,  when,  in  1643,  a  bigoted  parliament  ordered, 
'  that  all  pictures  which  had  the  representation  of  the  Sa- 
viour or  the  Virgin  Mary  in  them  should  be  burned.' 
The  brutal  fanaticism,  and  still  more  disgusting  hypocrisy, 
of  the  adherents  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  have  in  this  and  in 
similar  instances  been  most  unjustly  mixed  up  with  the 
pure  spirit  and  unsullied  zeal  of  the  genuine  followers  of 
Martin  Luther.  It  is  not  intended,  however,  indeed  it 
cannot  be  denied,  that  to  the  mere  practice  of  painting, 
and  to  the  multiplication  of  its  labours,  the  exclusion  of 
pictures  from  the  churches  is  injurious.  But  extension  is 
not  improvement. 

So  far,  then,  the  Reformation  has  proved  permanently 
hostile  to  the  art.  But  highly  as  we  honor  the  talent  of 
artisanship,  and  intimately  connected  as  is  the  glory  of  the 
land  with  the  reputation  of  its  arts,  we  cannot  for  one 
moment  entertain  the  proposal  now  so  generally,  it  had 
almost  been  said  unblushingly,  brought  forward,  of  con- 
verting our  churches  '  into  spacious  repositories '  for  the 
productions  of  the  pencil.  Here  we  have  explicitly  to 
state  an  opinion,  though  opposed  by  almost  every  writer 
on  the  arts ;  first,  that  neither  is  the  house  of  God  a  pro- 
per receptacle  for  pictures  ;  nor,  secondly,  if  every  Protes- 
tant place  of  worship  were  open  to  such  ornaments,  is  it 
clear  that  art  would  be  materially  advantaged.  Let  our 
sacred  edifices  be  as  nobly  simple,  as  massively  grand,  as 
may  be :  let  them  exhibit  every  beauty  of  architecture,  if 
needful ;  the  effect  will  elevate,  without  distracting,  the 
mind  ;  or  let  the  solemn  representations  of  sculpture  invite 
remembrance  to  dwell  upon  the  departed,  who  sleep 
16 


182 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


around  the  living  worshipper.  Such  thoughts  prepare  the 
mind  for  its  duties.  But  pictures  do  not  seem  so  immedi- 
ately associated,  either  with  the  place  or  with  our  medita- 
tions ;  with  us,  the  only  association  is  that  of  mere  orna- 
ment. We  might,  however,  be  accused  of  treating  here 
the  subject  too  seriously,  were  an  attempt  made  to  show 
the  sinfulness  of  abducing  even  one  thought  from  heaven, 
to  fix  it  on  a  merely  ornamental  appendage.  We  shall 
therefore  suppose,  that  in  our  country,  people  do  not  go  to 
church  to  see  pictures,  and  that,  as  elsewhere,  pictures 
are  here  painted  to  be  seen.  Now,  the  time  of  divine 
service  with  us  is  short,  and  that  space  is  passed,  without 
intermission,  in  sacred  duties,  in  prayer,  in  praise,  and  in 
exhortation.  Either  these  momentous  engagements  or 
the  pictures  must  be  neglected.  In  the  Romish  church 
the  service  is  long,  composed  of  many  ceremonies  in  which 
the  audience  take  no  share,  and  during  which,  the  mind 
may  be  employed  in  contemplating  a  religious  painting, 
with  at  least  equal  profit  as  the  dressings  and  undressings, 
the  crossings,  genuflexions,  perambulations,  and  incens- 
ings,  which  are  being  enacted  by  the  officials.  In  a  Pro- 
testant assembly,  every  one  is  seated  in  his  place ;  a  pic- 
ture can  be  viewed  properly  from  a  very  few  points,  per- 
haps only  one  ;  granting,  then,  all  the  advantages  1  of 
pictures  in  unison  with  the  feelings  of  the  mind,  exempli- 
fying in  the  most  striking  manner  the  objects  of  its  highest 
admiration  and  respect/  how  limited  is  the  number  that 
could  enjoy  these?  The  Catholic  church,  again,  knows 
not  the  impediment  of  pews,  and  the  individuals  of  the 
congregation  may  move  and  change  positions  at  pleasure. 
Protestant  churches  are  open  only  on  Sundays,  or  a  few 
fast  days,  while  we  have  no  useless  train  of  idle  retainers 
to  show  the  curiosities  of  the  place ;  the  Catholic  church 
is  open  from  sunrise  to  sunset  throughout  the  year,  each 


PAINTING. 


183 


with  its  sacristans,  vergers,  macemen,  &/C.  in  constant  at- 
tendance. In  the  Romish  ritual,  external  emblems  are 
certainly  permitted  as  stimulants  to  inward  devotion ;  of 
these,  pictures  are  among  the  most  favored.  In  our  faith, 
the  symbols  are  simple  as  its  practice,  and  too  sacred  even 
to  be  named  here.  We  have  no  wish,  then,  to  decry  the 
use  or  advantage  of  paintings  to  the  Catholic ;  but  it  seems 
sufficiently  obvious,  that  to  the  Protestant  they  can  at  best 
be  useless  in  a  place  of  public  worship. 

In  reference  to  the  second  consideration,  namely,  the 
profit  thus  accruing  to  the  arts  of  the  country,  it  has  been 
stated  above,  that  only  to  the  multiplication  of  paintings 
has  the  exclusion  in  question  proved  hurtful,  and  not  to 
the  improvement  or  perfection  of  the  art.  In  this  respect 
the  merits  of  the  Reformation  have  not  only  been  over- 
looked, but  denied,  while  the  claims  of  Catholicism,  as 
favorable  to  elegance,  have  been  too  highly  exalted.  True, 
a  great  proportion  of  the  patronage  by  which  the  arts  have 
been  supported  in  Italy  has  been  extended  by  churchmen  ; 
this  has  all  been  put  down  to  the  account  of  the  system. 
But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  this  protection  has  been 
granted  more  frequently  in  the  character  of  lay  noblemen 
and  princes,  than  of  ecclesiastics.  The  most  splendid 
works  of  the  pencil  are  in  the  private  palaces  of  the  popes 
and  cardinals,  and  other  members  of  the  hierarchy ;  lay- 
men with  the  same  means  would  have  acted  similarly. 
During  the  infancy  of  the  arts,  their  feebleness  was  stayed, 
and  their  vigorous  manhood  nourished,  by  the  free  corpo- 
rations of  the  republican  cities.  The  Catholic  Church 
only  received  the  arts  as  orphans,  after  her  temporal,  and 
therefore  improper  ambition,  had  destroyed  their  true  and 
natural  parent  —  Liberty.  At  this  moment,  too,  very  few 
fine  pictures  are  in  churches ;  they  are  in  public  galleries, 
in  private  collections,  in  the  cabinets  of  the  curious,  and 


184 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


in  palaces.  Where,  then,  is  the  vaunted  superiority  in 
the  Catholic  profession,  or  where  the  ancient  and  perma- 
nent disabilities  under  which  Protestantism  has  been  repre- 
sented as  labouring,  in  regard  to  the  arts  of  elegance  ?  And 
why  should  we  incur  even  the  possibility  of  contaminating 
the  purity  and  the  spirituality  of  our  faith,  or  of  even  of- 
fending the  mind  of  the  humblest  believer,  by  filling  our 
churches  with  pictures,  when  there  remains  to  us  the  am- 
plest field  yet  unoccupied  ?  We  have,  in  fact,  all  that  is 
yet  in  possession  of  high  art ;  in  our  royal  palaces,  in  the 
almost  regal  seats  of  our  nobility,  in  our  national  galleries, 
in  the  halls  of  our  universities  and  institutions,  and  in  our 
public  buildings  of  every  description.  Has  not  the  pencil 
6  ample  verge '  and  '  room  '  appropriate  1 

If  these  advantages  have  hitherto  remained  without 
fruit,  let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  defective  returns  have 
not  been  occasioned  by  imbecility  or  idleness  —  the  labour- 
ers have  been  otherwise  engaged.  During  only  three 
centuries  of  poor  and  struggling  Protestantism,  tenfold 
more  extensive  and  valuable  accessions  to  true  knowledge 
have  been  realized  than  were  accomplished  in  the  space 
of  a  thousand  years  of  the  prosperous  and  uncontrolled 
empire  of  Catholicism.  That  this  uprousing  of  the  hu- 
man spirit  has  become  not  less  refined  than  it  has  been 
vigorous,  is  evident  from  the  fact  which  connects  these 
remarks  with  our  subject,  namely,  that  now,  in  Protestant 
Britain,  is  to  be  found  the  only  original,  and  the  most 
flourishing  school  of  painting  in  Europe. 

In  pursuing  the  history  of  English  art  posterior  to  the 
Restoration,  little  of  importance  occurs  till  the  late  and 
present  reigns.  Charles  II.  had  wit,  but  no  great  share 
of  taste,  and  that  little,  like  his  morals,  was  equally  flimsy 
and  meretricious.  He  trifled  with  Verrio  and  Gennaro  in 
decorating  ceilings  and  covering  walls ;  while  Lely,  whose 


PAINTING. 


185 


light  and  graceful,  but  feeble  pencil,  had  in  succession 
traced  the  melancholy  countenance  of  the  Martyr,  and  the 
bluff  face  of  the  Protector,*  was  employed  as  state  por- 
trait-painter on  the  sleepy  and  luxurious  beauties  of  the 
court.  During  the  succeeding  reigns,  to  the  accession  of 
George  I.,  lived  Kneller,  a  native  of  Lubec,  an  artist  of 
considerable  talent,  but  who  painted  too  expeditiously  to 
paint  well,  and  who  was  too  intent  upon  sharing  the 
wealth  of  his  own  age  to  leave  many  drafts  that  would  be 
honored  by  posterity,  though  he  painted  in  his  life  seven 
English  and  three  foreign  sovereigns.  His  head  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  is  worth  them  all.  During  the  same  period 
we  find  many  native  artists  of  obscure  fame  and  merits ; 
as  Dobson,  who  died  in  1646,  and  was  brought  into  notice 
through  the  generosity  of  Vandyke.  Riley,  (John),  born 
in  the  same  year,  possessed,  according  to  Walpole,  more 
talent  than  any  of  his  countrymen.  It  was  to  this  artist 
that  Charles  II.  said,  '  Od's  fish,  man,  if  your  picture  of 
me  be  a  likeness,  I  am  an  ugly  fellow.'  Hoskins  and 
Cooper,  uncle  and  nephew,  were  celebrated  miniature- 
painters,  especially  the  latter,  who  was  married  to  a  sister 
of  Pope's  mother.  Henry,  who  was  employed  by  King 
William  in  the  reparation  of  Raphael's  cartoons.  High- 
more  painted  the  only  portrait  known  of  the  poet  Young. 
.Greenhill  and  Buckshorn  were  pupils  of  Lely.  Jervas, 
who,  in  spite  of  art,  contrived  to  make  a  fortune  and  to 
set  up  a  carriage ;  upon  which  Kneller  remarked,  in  his 
broken  English,  '  Ah,  mine  Cot !  if  de  horses  do  not  draw 
better  dan  he,  de  journey  will  never  have  an  end.'  The 
praises  lavished  by  Pope  on  this  his  master  evince  the 

*  1 1  desire,  Mr  Lely,'  said  Cromwell,  when  sitting  to  the  artist, 
i  that  you  will  paint  my  picture  truly  like  me,  and  not  natter  me  at 
all;  but  remark  all  these  roughnesses,  pimples,  warts,  ahd  every- 
thing as  you  see  me ;  otherwise  I  will  never  pay  you  a  farthing.' 
16* 


186 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


wretched  condition  of  general  taste,  when  we  consider 
these  praises  as  merely  the  echo  of  the  public  voice. 
Richardson  is  best  known  as  a  writer  on  art ;  though  a 
very  inferior  artist,  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  profession 
on  the  death  of  Kneller.  His  scholar  and  son-in-law, 
Hudson,  succeeded  in  the  dignity  of  metropolitan  portrait- 
painter,  though  opposed  for  some  time  by  Liotard,  a  Gene- 
vese,  and  Vanloo,  a  Frenchman.  Hudson  was  the  master 
of  Reynolds,  with  whom  the  British  school  first  assumes 
the  dignity  of  higher  art,  the  elevation  commencing  with 
the  portraits  painted  by  Sir  Joshua  on  his  return  from  the 
Continent  in  1752-3.  Previously,  however,  had  appeared 
Hogarth,  the  most  original  of  all  painters  ;  but  his  pictures, 
from  their  subjects,  were  not  calculated,  in  proportion  to 
their  merit,  to  refine  the  national  taste.  So  early,  too,  as 
1739,  the  establishment  of  the  old  academy  in  St  Martin's 
Lane  had  been  silently  preparing  some  melioration  in  a 
better  manner  of  designing ;  and  the  introduction  of  cos-, 
tume,  though  poorly  executed,  was  an  advance  towards 
truth  from  the  absurd  robes  of  Lely  and  Kneller.  The 
association  just  mentioned  was  afterwards  incorporated  by 
his  late  Majesty ;  but  the  members  disagreeing,  the  Royal 
Academy  was  founded.  Here  have  presided  the  three 
greatest  names  in  the  art  since  the  time  of  Rubens  and 
Vandyke,  perhaps  since  the  Caracci  —  Reynolds,  West, 
and  Lawrence. 

Walpole  has  with  justice  remarked,  that  '  in  the  com- 
mencement of  the  reign  of  George  I.,  in  1714,  the  arts  of 
England  were  sunk  almost  to  their  lowest  ebb.'  The 
preceding  sketch  verifies  the  observation ;  and  from  the 
singular  anomaly  of  a  nation,  during  the  most  flourishing 
period  of  its  literature,  possessing  a  taste  absolutely  con- 
temptible in  the  fine  arts,  evinces  the  truth  of  the  princi- 
ples advocated  throughout  these  pages.    From  the  Res- 


PAINTING. 


187 


toration  to  the  accession  of  George  III.,  the  arts  had  never 
once  been  regarded  as  adding  to  national  respectability, 
nor  as  connected  with  national  feeling.     The  people 
crowded  to  have  their  portraits  taken,  without  inquiring 
or  conceiving  that  there  was  anything  to  know  beyond  the 
mere  mechanical  art.    The  sovereign,  instead  of  regard- 
ing the  progress  of  elegant  taste  as  an  important  object 
of  legislation,  looked  out  for  a  limner  merely  as  a  neces- 
sary appurtenance  of  a  court.    As  our  monarchs  of  this 
period,  not  even  excepting  Anne,  through  the  predilections 
of  her  husband,  were,  as  regards  painting,  better  acquaint- 
ed with  Continental  art,  and  some  more  attached  to  every- 
thing foreign,  British  genius,  of  course  overlooked,  was 
never  once  called  forth.  Some  stray  Italian,  Dutchman,  or 
German,  was  caught  hold  of,  patronised  by  royalty,  sup- 
ported by  the  nobility,  and  never  thought  of  by  the  nation 
beyond  face-painting  in  the  metropolis.    From  the  middle 
of  the  seventeenth  to  the  first  forty  years  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  when  national  talent  at  length  began  to  break 
forth  in  its  own  strength,  such  was  the  state  of  patronage, 
and  the  artists  who  enjoyed  its  benefits  were  but  little 
qualified  to  create  a  national  interest ;  for  their  manner- 
ism and  foreign  modes  served  only  the  more  decidedly  to 
exclude  a  characteristic  style,  and,  as  must  ever  be  the 
case  in  similar  instances,  prevented  any  developement  of 
native  originality.    Another  great  cause  of  our  wretched 
taste  in  the  arts,  and  which  perhaps  in  part  grew  out  of 
these  more  general  causes,  was,  that  the  real  genius  of 
the  land  was  bent  upon  the  pursuits  of  literature  and  sci- 
ence ;  while  the  nation  had  not  attained  that  degree  of 
refinement,  security,  and  opulence,  which  enable  a  peo- 
ple to  enjoy  and  to  reward  the  exertions  of  mind,  as  at 
the  present  day,  in  all  its  separate  and  diversified  depart- 
ments of  action.    Between  literary  eminence  and  excel- 


188 


THE  PINE  ARTS. 


1 


lence  in  art  there  seems  a  natural  connexion,  as  depend- 
ing upon  principles  of  taste  and  modes  of  exercise  nearly 
similar.  Letters  and  the  Fine  Arts,  then,  have  generally 
been  carried  to  the  highest  perfection  among  the  same 
people ;  they  have  flourished  in  conjunction,  and  they 
have  fallen  together.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  however,  that 
the  former  have  always  preceded ;  the  noblest  effusions  of 
poetry  have  long  been  the  delight  of  his  country  before 
the  painter  or  the  sculptor  have  reached  an  equal  merit. 
Nor  is  this  casual  precedence.  The  labours  of  the  poet 
are  a  necessary,  in  fact  a  creative  preparation ;  by  their 
rapid  and  wide  circulation,  they  soften  the  sensibilities, 
arouse  the  imagination,  give  to  taste  an  existence  and  a 
feeling  of  its  object,  and  awake  the  mind  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  its  intellectual  wants.  They  constitute,  also, 
a  common  chronicle,  whether  of  fiction  or  of  reality, 
whose  events  are  clear  to,  and  quickly  recognisable  by  all. 
Fancy  thus  obtains  a  lore  of  its  own,  whose  legends  de- 
light by  repetition,  and  whose  imagery  animates  the  can- 
vass or  the  marble  with  forms  loved  of  old.  Poetry,  then, 
must  precede  art.  All  this  advantage  of  preparation  and 
expectancy  was  denied  to  the  infancy  of  English  painting. 
Milton's  verse,  not  inferior  to  any  precursor  of  Phidias  or 
of  Raphael,  instead  of  being,  as  Homer's  or  Dante's,  for 
centuries  the  manual  of  his  countrymen,  was  barely  known. 
Dryden,  Addison,  Pope,  were  yet  but  forming  the  public 
mind.  In  many  respects,  too,  even  had  there  not  existed 
artists  capable  of  constituting  an  epoch,  the  writings  of 
these  distinguished  men  are  not  favorable  to  vigorous 
originality  of  thought  in  art.  Their  own  immediate  pro- 
ductions are  impressed  with  the  genuine  stamp  of  nation- 
ality, but  their  abstract  system  of  criticism  is  often  timid, 
almost  always  conventional ;  while  in  every  remark  on 
that  subject,  they  show  inexperience  of  the  true  object 


PAINTING. 


189 


and  philosophy  of  art.  Even  Addison  here  writes  as  a 
mere  antiquarian,  and  Dryden  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of 
poetry  indeed,  but  with  little  of  the  sober  judgment  which 
must  guide  the  more  laborious  hand  and  less  undefined 
shapes  of  the  painter.  Again,  the  intellectual  tempera- 
ment and  state  of  society  favorable  to  the  arts  is  directly 
opposed  to  those  which  promote  scientific  knowledge. 
Indeed,  between  the  spirit  of  analytical  inquiry,  of  minute 
research,  which  belongs  to  the  investigations  of  science, 
and  the  creative  fancy  which  tends  to  the  successful  exer- 
cise of  the  poet's  or  painter's  art,  the  dissimilarity  appears 
so  great,  that  among  the  same  people  and  at  the  same 
period,  high  eminence  in  both  has  never  yet  been  attain- 
ed. The  amazing  demonstrations  of  Newton,  then,  and 
the  profound  speculations  of  Locke,  were  by  no  means 
favorable  to  painting,  while  so  entirely  in  infancy.  They 
spread  abroad  a  different  taste  —  they  engaged  in  the  pur- 
suit every  ardent  and  aspiring  mind.  The  sublime  mys- 
teries unveiled  by  the  genius  of  Newton  gave  an  especial 
bias  to  men's  minds,  and  caused  his  own  age  to  view  with 
indifference,  as  light  and  valueless,  pursuits  which  seemed 
but  to  minister  to  the  amenities  of  life,  or  to  hang  only  as 
graceful  ornaments  upon  society. 

Having  thus  faintly  traced  the  rise  and  progress  of 
painting  in  connexion  with  the  history  of  the  country,  we 
now  proceed  briefly  to  examine  the  principles  and  the 
practice  of  the  British  school,  under  the  general  heads  of 
Portrait,  Historical,  and  Landscape  Painting, 


190 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is  the  founder  of  the  English 
school.  He  is  also  the  author  of  much  that  presently 
forms  the  most  objectionable  practice.  Like  every  great 
artist,  Sir  Joshua  must  be  viewed  in  two  lights  —  as  he 
stands  in  reference  to  the  circumstances  of  his  own  age, 
and  as  an  individual  master  in  his  profession.  As  the 
immediate  successor,  then,  of  the  artists  already  named, 
and  as  elevating  the  art  from  their  inanity  to  the  state  in 
which  he  left  it,  he  justly  ranks  among  the  small  number 
who  compose  the  reformers  of  taste.  In  this  aspect,  his 
genius  exhibits  no  ordinary  claims  to  the  gratitude  of  pos- 
terity, while  here  his  merits  are  presented  in  the  most 
favorable  light.  For  when  these  are  considered,  on  the 
other  hand,  as  regards  the  present  influence  of  the  prin- 
ciples upon  which  the  reformation,  or  perhaps  commence- 
ment, of  the  English  school  was  established,  there  will  be 
found  defect  both  in  practice  and  theory.  Indeed,  the 
theoretical  part  of  his  professional  education  appears  to 
have  been  founded,  in  the  first  instance,  upon  the  errone- 
ous modes  of  the  writers  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  which 
were  never  laid  aside,  though  to  a  certain  extent  modified' 
by  his  studies  in  Italy.  In  fact,  the  pictures  and  the  writ- 
ings of  Sir  Joshua  bear  in  this  respect  a  striking  resem- 
blance—  that  the  beauties  of  each  break  forth  in  despite 
of  theory.  Nature  and  good  feeling,  operating  unre- 
strained, give  to  his  paintings  their  best  graces,  when  the 
ideal  perfection  at  which  he  aimed  has  at  happy  moments 
been  forgotten.  In  like  manner,  his  discourses  are  admi- 
rable, when  they  deliver  practical  precepts,  explain  the 
suggestions  of  experience,  or  endeavor  to  reconcile  refined 
taste  with  common  sentiment,    But  when  they  speak  of 


PAINTING. 


191 


the  abstractions  and  idealities  of  art,  they  become,  and 
have  already  proved,  most  treacherous  guides.  This  he 
has  himself  exemplified,  for  he  has  uniformly  gone  astray 
where  he  has  implicitly  followed  these  guides ;  and  it  may 
be  shown  that  the  besetting  sins  of  the  English  school 
spring  from  the  same  sources.  Sir  Joshua's  theory  and 
his  practice  were  in  more  than  one  respect  inconsistent, 
while  neither  adhered  so  closely  to,  or  at  least  did  not  ren- 
der nature,  so  faithfully  and  so  minutely,  as  is  desirable. 
His  perceptions  of  form  he  derived,  or  professed  to  derive, 
from  Michael  Angelo;  but  his  practice  is  founded  upon 
the  principles  of  Rembrandt.  From  the  explanation  of 
these  already  given,  with  this  anticipation,  at  some  length, 
it  must  at  once  appear,  that  they  were  little  calculated 
kindly  to  amalgamate  with  the  decided  lines,  refined  sci- 
ence, and  lofty  abstractions  of  the  Florentine.  But  even 
of  these  principles,  Sir  Joshua  did  not  follow  the  most 
valuable  portion,  namely,  the  rigid  fidelity  of  imitation 
which  they  enjoined.  He  adopted  them  only  in  their  con- 
centration of  light,  and  deep  contrast  of  shadow,  and  in 
their  massive  coloring,  intended  for  inspection  at  a  certain 
distance.  Instead  of  careful  resemblance,  he  substituted 
middle  forms,  and  large  masses  without  details ;  or,  to 
refer  here  to  his  own  words,  which  he  has  most  directly 
illustrated  in  his  whole  practice  :  —  '  the  great  style  in  art, 
and  the  most  perfect  imitation  of  nature,  consist  in  avoid- 
ing the  details  and  peculiarities  of  particular  objects  ;'  and 
again  :  '  the  perfection  of  portrait  painting  consists  in  giv- 
ing the  general  idea  or  character,  without  individual  pe- 
culiarities. ' 

Now,  whether  these  principles  be  regarded  as  they 
affect  the  practice  of  an  imitative  art,  and  more  especially 
in  the  department  of  portraiture ;  or  whether  they  be  ex- 
amined in  reference  to  the  philosophy  of  taste  and  compo- 


192 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


sition  in  historical  painting,  we  apprehend  they  will  be 
found  not  only  reprehensible  in  themselves,  but  to  be  the 
ground  work  upon  which  have  been  reared  the  present 
errors  of  our  school.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  shall 
examine  them  at  some  length. 

There  are  two  styles  or  modes  of  repiesentation  in 
painting,  which  agree  in  producing  the  same  general  effect 
of  resemblance,  but  differ  in  the  extent  to  which  the  re- 
semblance of  individual  forms  is  carried ;  or  perhaps,  if 
the  expression  be  allowed,  in  the  number  of  particular 
similitudes  composing  the  aggregate  resemblance.  It  is 
evident  from  this  definition,  that  the  portion  of  mental 
pleasure,  or  exercise  of  the  imagination,  arising  from  con- 
templating the  productions  of  an  imitative  art,  merely  as 
such,  will  be  increased  just  in  proportion  to  the  facilities 
afforded  of  augmenting  comparisons  between  the  proto- 
type and  the  representation.  If  this  be  denied,  it  follows 
that  the  coarsest  scene-painting  is  equal  to  the  most  finished 
landscape  of  Claude ;  for  the  general  effect  must  be  alike 
true  in  each.  But  again,  since  painting  has  not,  like 
poetry,  the  advantage  of  repeated  and  progressive  im- 
pressions ;  the  object  which  the  painter  must  hold  con- 
stantly, and  as  primary,  in  view,  is  to  add  power  to  the 
first  burst  of  effect  which  his  work  is  to  produce  upon  the 
mind.  When,  therefore,  attention  to  the  individual  resem- 
blances has  caused  to  be  neglected  or  overlooked  the  grand 
result  or  aggregate  of  resemblance,  one  of  the  greatest 
possible  errors  is  committed.  The  performance  is  justly 
condemned  to  a  low  grade  in  art,  because  the  author  has 
both  mistaken  the  real  strength  of  the  instrument  which 
he  wields,  and  has  shown  himself  defective  in  the  highest 
quality  of  genius,  —  comprehension  and  creation  of  a 
whole.  Thus  there  are  two  extremes  in  art ;  and  even 
on  the  adage  of  common  life,  the  mean  must  be  pre- 


PAINTING.  193 

ferable.  Hence,  then,  even  thus  far  Sir  Joshua's  maxim, 
and  the  maxim  of  too  large  a  proportion  of  our  native 
school  generally,  appears  to  be  erroneous,  '  in  avoiding 
details  and  individual  character.'  But  in  each  of  these 
extremes  are  found  its  respective,  and  to  excellence,  indis- 
pensable advantages.  The  nearer,  therefore,  they  can  be 
approached  and  reconciled,  the  more  perfect  will  be  the 
style.  If  this  be  doubted,  the  practice  of  the  best  mas- 
ters will  accord  with  a  conclusion  derived  from  the  very 
nature  of  an  art  at  once  imitative  and  liberal.  If  we  ex- 
amine in  this  view  the  remains  of  classic  sculpture,  we 
find,  indeed,  the  masses  and  divisions  few  and  simple,  in 
order  to  preserve  the  harmony  and  force  of  general  effect ; 
but  so  far  from  details  being  excluded,  the  Elgin  marbles 
have  the  very  veins  of  the  horses  marked,  and  are  in 
every  respect  highly  finished ;  and  as  we  approach  the  era 
of  Alexander,  though  this  particular  circumstance  in  cer- 
tain cases  be  laid  aside,  yet  the  general  divisions  become 
even  more  numerous,  and  the  details  still  more  minute. 
Among  flie  moderns,  again,  those  masters  in  the  art  now 
considered,  who  are  esteemed  the  most  excellent,  are  sin- 
gularly remarkable  for  the  quantity  and  variety  of  detail 
which  they  have  harmonized  into  one  grand  and  perfect 
whole.  For  this  we  refer  to  the  heads  of  Raphael,  Titian, 
Coreggio,  and  Vandyke,  which,  though  broad  and  grand 
in  general  effect,  are  so  far  from  being  defective  in  detail, 
that  each  separate  part  would  form  a  perfect  study.  If, 
again,  the  history  of  art  be  considered,  it  has  been  shown, 
both  in  sculpture  and  in  painting,  that  during  the  infancy 
of  each  art,  details  were  imitated,  while  the  mind  was  yet 
unable  to  grasp  the  entire  subject.  As  improvement  ad- 
vanced, and  genius  attained  the  full  mastery  of  its  weapons, 
truth  and  number  of  constituents,  grandeur  and  unity  of 
design,  crowned  the  whole.  Inversely,  decline  is  per- 
17 


194 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ceived  to  commence  in  the  neglect  of  those  fine  and  almost 
evanescent  details,  which  compose  the  breathing,  the 
master-touches  of  a  work  of  art.  Successively  the  pro- 
gress of  corruption  advances,  till  little  remain  save  large 
harsh  masses,  from  which  state  the  downward  path  is 
rapid,  to  the  complete  destitution  of  even  general  form. 
How  strongly,  for  instance,  and  in  how  short  a  space,  was 
this  exemplified  in  the  fortunes  of  Greek  sculpture  in 
Rome  !  From  the  finishing  of  even  Ludovico  Caracci, 
to  the  sprawlings  of  Luca  Giordano,  how  brief  was  the 
interval  !  from  the  exquisitely  pencilled  and  speaking  por- 
traits of  Vandyke  to  the  glaring  vacancies,  the  unde- 
tailed middle  forms,  of  Lely  and  Kneller  ! 

These  reasonings,  so  varied  in  their  origin,  give  but 
one  uniform  conclusion,  the  very  reverse  of  the  principle 
upon  which  English  portraits  have  been  painted,  with  few 
exceptions,  from  the  works  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  to 
those  of  the  present  day  ;  —  a  conclusion,  showing  that 
the  excellence  of  art,  and  the  most  perfect  imitation  of 
nature,  do  not  consist  in  '  the  avoiding  of  details,'  but  in 
the  happy  union  of  detail  and  of  individual  resemblance 
with  greatness  and  breadth  of  general  power.  To  avoid 
details  is  to  rest  contented  with  an  inferior  aim  in  art — to 
avoid,  in  fact,  the  chief  difficulty  and  the  chief  glory  that 
mark  the  career  of  the  artist. 

This  gross  style  of  mechanical  practice,  which  the  the- 
ory now  combated  certainly  originated,  has  spread  over 
the  whole  of  English  portraiture  a  coarseness  of  effect 
and  unfinished  appearance,  destitute  of  the  agreeable 
lightness  of  a  sketch,  and  yet  without  the  clear  and  well- 
defined  solidity  of  a  highly-wrought  picture.  In  like  man- 
ner, the  striving  at  some  delusive,  some  shadowy  excel- 
lence of  general  expression,  instead  of  representing  the 
air  and  character  exactly  as  in  the  countenance  of  the 


PAINTING. 


195 


sitter,  has  greatly  depreciated  the  intellectual  qualities  of 
our  art.  Hence  the  unmeaning,  common-place  look  which 
most  of  portraits  cast  at  the  spectator.  Doubtless,  in  every 
countenance  there  is  a  general  impress  of  thought  or  feel- 
ing, which  may  be  said  to  constitute  the  habitual  mental 
likeness  of  the  individual.  This  it  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance faithfully  to  transfer  to  the  canvass.  Without  this, 
indeed,  the  most  correct  and  elaborate  pronouncing  of  the 
separate  features  is  of  no  comparative  value.  Hence, 
however,  it  by  no  means  follows,  that  '  individual  pecu- 
liarities' are  to  be  resigned.  On  the  contrary,  when  judi- 
ciously introduced,  they  will  give  force  by  the  very  addition 
of  individuality  to  the  general  resemblance.  It  is  this 
which  imparts  the  speaking  impress  of  thought  and  mind 
to  the  portraits  of  Raphael  and  Titian,  where  1 the  rapt 
soul  sitting  in  the  eye '  seems  to  breathe,  in  all  its  historic 
energies,  from  the  canvass.  It  astonishes,  indeed,  that 
such  precepts  should  have  been  delivered  by  one  who 
must  have  been  sensible,  that  the  reformation  which  he 
accomplished  in  contemporary  art,  was  mainly  owing  to 
his  having  exploded  the  very  same  notions  of  generalizing 
resemblance,  and  of  middle  forms,  held  by  his  prede- 
cessors. In  fact,  Reynolds  was  superior  to  Lely  or  Knel- 
3er,  or  even  Hudson,  chiefly  as  he  approached  nearer  to 
nature,  by  discarding  mannered,  conventional,  and  sys- 
tematic modifications  of  her  realities.  And  he  is  superior 
to  himself  exactly  in  those  works  where  he  has  left  out 
his  own  peculiar  *  ways  of  seeing  nature,'  and  has  given 
her  honestly  and  faithfully  as  she  actually  did  appear. 
Thus  his  best  portraits  are  those  of  his  intimate  friends  ; 
—  men  whose  habits  of  thought  and  action  were  pressed 
upon  him  by  constant  observance,  and  in  veneration  of 
whom,  and  of  all  that  belonged  to  them,  he  forgot  his  sys- 
tem in  the  subject  before  him.    Such  are  the  portraits  of 


196 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Dr  Johnson,  of  Baretti,  of  Goldsmith,  of  Burney,  and  two 
of  the  finest  and  most  powerful  likenesses  in  the  world, 
of  John  Hunter  and  Bishop  Newton.  As  it  was  with  Sir 
Joshua,  so  will  it  be  with  eveVy  other  artist.  He  must  not 
merely  imitate,  he  must  resign  himself  to,  nature  ;  become 
as  a  little  child,  leaving  all  artifice  and  false  knowledge, 
and  receive  from  her  the  precepts  of  truth  and  soberness. 

These  remarks,  though  now  illustrated  chiefly  by  refer- 
ence to  its  founder,  are  applicable  more  or  less  to  the 
English  school  of  portraiture  generally.  Indeed,  down  to 
the  masters  of  the  present  day,  these  precepts  operate, 
and  often  not  less  decidedly  than  in  the  works  of  those 
who  were  the  contemporaries  of  Sir  Joshua.  Of  the  lat- 
ter, the  names  of  a  few  of  the  principal  may  now  be  enu- 
merated. 

Romney,  who  died  in  1802,  ten  years  after  the  death 
of  Sir  Joshua,  was  an  original,  and  to  a  great  degree, 
self-taught  artist.  His  style  of  design  is  simple,  his  color- 
ing warm  and  rich,  but  his  affectation  of  breadth  has  fre- 
quently induced  a  neglect  of  form,  with  often  too  vague 
a  generalization  of  sentiment.  The  great  failing  of  Rom* 
ney  —  one  common,  indeed,  to  all  men,  in  every  profes- 
sion, who  have  not  been  regularly  educated — is  some- 
thing defective  in  his  general  management,  so  that  the 
whole  is  rendered  imperfect  or  displeasing  from  some  pe- 
culiarity or  unmethodical  management,  which  early  instruc- 
tion would  easily  have  enabled  him  to  avoid. 

Opie  has  carried  the  principles  of  Sir  Joshua  to  the 
very  verge  of  coarse  and  indistinct,  from  which  the  force 
of  his  own  genius  has  scarcely  secured  him.  His  por- 
traits have  frequently  not  more  detail  than  a  sketch,  yet 
are  usually  heavy  and  laboured  in  effect.  Though  un- 
doubtedly possessing  high  talent,  Opie's  success  was  owing 
not  less  to  the  circumstances  under  which  he  rose,  than 


PAINTING. 


197 


to  intrinsic  merit.  He.  is,  however,  a  very  unequal  artist, 
sometimes  attaining  great  beauty,  at  others  falling  beneath 
himself,  which  renders  it  difficult  to  pronounce  generally  ; 
besides,  he  has  several  manners,  though  in  each,  the  large 
and  unfinished  style  predominates.  Great  allowance  is, 
however,  undoubtedly  to  be  made  for  him,  whose  first  por- 
trait was  painted  by  stealth,  in  moments  snatched  from 
the  menial  occupation  of  carrying  offals  to  the  house-dog 
of  his  first  employer.  Such  was  his  employment  as  house- 
boy  in  the  family  of  Walcott,  the  portrait  being  that  of 
the  butcher,  and  which  there  is  reason  to  believe  was 
painted  in  the  shambles.  No  where  in  the  history  of  mind, 
do  we  find  such  amazing  instances  of  the  power  of  talent 
over  circumstances  as  in  art.  From  painting  likenesses 
at  seven  and  sixpence  in  Truro,  '  the  Cornish  boy  5  came 
to  London  with  thirty  guineas  in  his  pocket,  and,  with 
hardly  any  instructions,  save  advice  from  Sir  Joshua, 
made  his  way  to  fame  and  fortune.  Next  to  Sir  Joshua, 
of  the  contemporary  painters,  Romney  and  Opie  supported 
undoubtedly  the  first  rank,  though  many  others,  of  con- 
siderable merit,  would  deserve  notice  in  a  more  extended 
narrative.  We  shall  therefore  now  direct  attention  to 
Historical  and  Landscape  Painting. 

The  excellence  and  amazing  number  of  its  portraits, 
has  occasioned  the  merits  of  the  English  school  of  history 
to  appear  less  than  they  really  are.  Indeed,  where  por- 
traiture is  practised  on  the  principles  of  grand  art,  as  in 
this  country,  there  must  be  excellence  in  all  the  depart- 
ments of  the  profession  ;  and  the  opinion  so  prevalent,  that 
portrait  is  an  inferior  branch,  has  seriously  prejudiced  both 
divisions  of  the  art.  It  has  withdrawn  the  historical 
painter,  as,  by  way  of  exclusive  eminence,  he  was  solicit- 
ous to  be  named,  from  the  careful  study  of  nature  in  her 
individual  modes  and  forms  —  the  only  true  source  of  ideal 
17* 


198 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


perfection ;  while  it  has  damped  the  precious  enthusiasm 
which  arises  from  the  consciousness  of  dignified  pursuit, 
by  placing  the  portrait  painter  in  the  degraded  rank  of  a 
secondary  artizan. 

The  more  elevated  the  standard  to  which,  in  any  study, 
the  mind  is  taught  to  aspire,  the  nobler  will  be  the  fruits 
of  exertion  ;  but  where  less  is  expected,  less  will  be  accom- 
plished. The  portrait  painter,  feeling  that  he  would  not 
receive  credit  for  beauties  of  which  his  art  was  deemed 
incapable,  has  been  too  ready  to  take  the  public  at  their 
own  word,  and  to  remain  contented  with  the  inferiority 
they  were  thus  willing  to  accept.  But  the  very  reverse  of 
all  this  is  the  truth.  No  essential  principle  of  high  art 
may  not  be  exhibited,  and  indeed  every  one  is  to  be  found, 
in  a  first-rate  portrait.  Such  works,  too,  are  equally,  per- 
haps even  more  rare,  and  by  the  same  authors,  as  the 
masterpieces  of  historical  composition.  Hence  we  are 
conducted  to  our  first  premise  as  a  conclusion,  that  where 
portraiture  has  been  successfully  practised,  history  must 
also  flourish.  A  reference  to  the  annals  of  the  latter  will 
prove  this  to  be  the  case  among  ourselves,  at  least  to  a 
greater  extent  than  is  the  general  impression. 

Even  from  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  we  find  historical 
painting  in  repute ;  some  of  Holbein's  works  from  history 
remain  even  more  admirable  than  his  portraits.  In  the 
reign  of  Mary,  Antonio  More  was  eminent,  though  against 
his  inclination  employed  chiefly  in  portraiture.  Elizabeth, 
in  like  manner,  patronized  Zucchero  ;  and  the  portraits 
of  Hilliard,  one  of  the  first  English  artists  of  merit,  are 
in  some  instances,  though  of  small  size,  almost  historical, 
as  Donne  bears  witness  : 

 Or  hand  or  eye 

By  Hilliard  drawn  is  worth  a  history 

By  a  worse  painter  made. 


PAINTING. 


199 


The  labours  of  Rubens  and  Vandyke  under  Charles, 
especially  the  Banqueting-House  at  Whitehall  by  the 
former,  continue  to  show  that  history  was  not  unpatron- 
ized.  Still  no  English  school  can  properly  be  said  to 
have  been  formed  till  the  eighteenth  century,  .when  Sir 
James  Thornhill,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  was 
appointed  historical  painter  to  the  court.  The  works  of 
this  artist  are  numerous,  and  we  are  disposed  to  rank 
them  higher  than  they  are  commonly  appreciated.  Those 
in  St  Paul's  and  at  Greenwich  are  well  known ;  and 
though  it  be  questionable  whether  they  could  have  been 
much  better  executed  by  any  other  artist  at  that  time  in 
Europe,  yet  so  miserable  was  the  encouragement,  that 
Thornhill  is  reported  to  have  been  paid  for  some  of  these 
labours  by  the  square  yard  for  two  pounds. 

Thus  the  annals  of  historical  painting  in  England 
furnish  little  to  reward  research  or  to  interest  the  reader, 
previous  to  the  appearance  of  Hogarth,  born  1693,  in  the 
Old  Bailey,  the  son  of  a  schoolmaster,  and  died  in  1764, 
being  the  first  native  artist  who  proved  that  there  existed 
subject  in  our  manners,  and  talent  in  our  land,  for  other 
painting  than  portrait.  Hogarth  claims  the  highest  praise 
of  genius  ;  he  was  an  original  inventor  ;  nay,  more,  he 
both  struck  out  a  new  path,  and  qualified  himself  to  walk 
therein.  From  an  engraver  of  armorial  bearings  and  or- 
naments on  plate,  he  taught  himself  to  be  a  painter.  The 
aim  of  no  artist  has  been  more  mistaken,  at  least  estimated 
on  principles  more  opposed,  than  that  of  Hogarth.  Some 
have  ranked  him  as  a  satirical,  some  as  a  grotesque  paint- 
er, while  others  have  not  scrupled  to  rate  him  merely  as  a 
caricaturist.  If,  however,  historical  painting  consist  in 
the  delineation  of  manners,  in  the  expression  of  senti- 
ment, and  in  striking  representation  of  natural  character, 
few  names  in  art  will  stand  higher  than  Hogarth  ;  while, 


200 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


beyond  most  painters,  he  has  extended  the  bounds  of  the 
art,  in  the  alliance  which  he  has  formed  between  the  ima- 
gination and  the  heart,  —  between  amusing  of  the  exter- 
nal sense  and  the  profound  reflections  thus  awakened. 
His  pictures  are  not  merely  passing  scenes,  or  momentary 
actions  ;  they  are  profound  moral  lessons.  It  is  this  which 
raises  him  far  above  the  Dutch  or  Flemish  school,  with 
whose  general  imitation  of  national  customs,  his  firm  and 
individual  grasp  of  the  morality  of  common  life  has  with 
great  injustice  been  confounded.  From  the  lofty  abstrac- 
tions of  the  Italian  masters,  again,  he  differs  widely,  but 
not,  as  usually  supposed,  because  he  represents  low,  but 
because  he  paints  real  life.  In  this  respect,  the  observa- 
tion of  Walpole,  that,  1  Hogarth's  place  is  between  the 
Italians,  whom  we  may  consider  as  epic  poets  and  trage- 
dians ;  and  the  Flemish  painters,,  who  are  as  writers  of 
farce,  and  editors  of  burlesque  nature,5  is  founded  in  utter 
mistake,  or  misrepresentation  ;  he  never  forgave  the  artist's 
independence  of  his  connoisseur  ship.  Hogarth's  place  is 
not  between,  but  above  and  apart.  He  '  holds  the  mirror 
up  to  nature,'  not  to  exhibit  graphic  powers  of  mimicry, 
not  to  depict  the  sublimity  of  mind,  or  the  idealities  of 
form,  but  '  to  show  Vice  her  own  features,'  man  '  his  own 
image.' 

His  predecessor  thus  standing  alone,  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds claims  to  be  the  founder  of  English  historical  paint- 
ing in  its  recognised  acceptation.  Indeed,  his  principles 
already,  or  hereafter  to  be  explained,  have  been  followed 
by  all  succeeding  artists,  or  have  influenced  practice  in 
history  no  less  than  in  portraiture.  And  what  this  influ- 
ence accomplished  in  the  latter,  it  certainly  has  also  effect- 
ed in  the  former  department,  with  this  difference  indeed, 
that  in  the  first  it  created,  in  the  second  improved,  giving 
to  each  a  large,  bold,  and  energetic  manner,  which  was 


PAINTING. 


201 


at  least  a  step  greatly  in  advance,  a  most  respectable  ap- 
proximation, in  the  path  of  excellence.  But  this,  as  a 
resting-place,  was  far  less  perfect  in  history  than  in  any 
other  branch  of  the  art,  since  the  style  was  adverse  to 
attainment  in  many  of  those  qualities  justly  deemed  essen- 
tial. Hence  is  Sir  Joshua  not  only  inferior  to  himself  in 
history,  but  his  example  has,  on  the  whole,  retarded  the 
advancement  of  the  study  amongst  us.  Successors  have 
either  too  often  rested  in  imitation  of  his  manner,  or  they 
have  carried  his  principles  forward,  in  which  case  they 
are  unfortunately  calculated  to  lead  farther  from  the  gen- 
uine sources  of  pure  taste  and  substantial  composition. 

The  masterpieces  of  Sir  Joshua  are  his  representations 
of  children  ;  and  in  many  historical,  or  rather  fancy  pieces 
of  this  character,  as  the  Infant  Hercules,  the  Strawberry 
Girl,  Puck,  Cupid  and  Psyche,  Hope  nursing  Love,  his 
labours  are  truly  admirable.  Such  subjects  were  just 
fitted  to  his  bland  and  flowing  pencil,  while  they  suffered 
nothing  from  undecided  form  and  contours  feebly  express- 
ed. The  arch,  yet  simple  expression,  the  lovely,  yet  al- 
most grotesque  individuality  of  character,  in  the  heads  of 
his  children,  the  execution,  and  even  coloring  —  all  is 
equally  natural  and  exquisite.  They  are  among  the  most 
perfect  gems  of  art.  Only  second  to  the  similar  produc- 
tions of  Coreggio,  they  are  superior  to  everything  done 
on  the  Continent  since  the  days  of  Rubens  and  Fiam- 
mingo.  It  appears  singular,  then,  on  the  first  view  of  the 
matter,  that  Sir  Joshua  should  have  so  frequently  failed, 
and  on  the  whole  left  so  few  good  female  portraits,  while 
so  nearly  attaining  perfection  in  subjects  of  allied  grace 
and  loveliness.  But  it  is  to  be  remarked,  a  style  of  hand- 
ling broad  and  facile,  yet  peculiarly  soft  and  fleshy,  which 
in  these  instances  produces  effects  so  beautiful  without 
much  finish,  is  not  equally  adapted  to  express  the  equally 


202 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


soft,  yet  decided  forms  and  delicate  movements  of  the 
female  countenance.  Besides,  Sir  Joshua  had  peculiar 
notions  of  grace,  which  affected  ease  and  nature,  rather 
than  actually  represented  the  easy  and  the  natural.  He 
wished  to  avoid  stiffness,  and  has  often  lapsed  into  the 
contrasted  and  theatrical.  His  picture  of  Mrs  Siddons, 
as  the  Tragic  Muse,  however,  is  pronounced  by  Sir  Tho- 
mas Lawrence  to  be  '  a  work  Of  the  highest  epic  charac- 
ter, and  indisputably  the  finest  female  portrait  in  the  world.' 
How  far,  however,  either  that,  or  the  no  less  celebrated 
picture  of  Garrick,  can  rank  with  historical  portraitures, 
at  least  considered  with  those  of  Raphael  and  Titian,  may 
justly  be  questioned.  Of  the  more  elevated  and  serious 
historical  compositions  of  Sir  Joshua,  the  Death  of  Car- 
dinal Beaufort  is  the  grandest,  the  best  drawn,  and  the 
most  powerfully  colored ;  the  only  defect  is  the  expres- 
sion, which  is  too  material  ;  Ugolino  is  a  failure,  if  intend- 
ed for  the  fierce  inmate  of  Dante's  '  tower  of  famine  :' 
these  want  dignity  and  truth  of  character.  The  designs 
at  Oxford  are  fine  ;  the  Nativity,  in  imitation  of  the  famous 
Notte  of  Coreggio,  is  a  splendid  performance. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  then,  owed  more  to  taste  and 
application  than  to  genius ;  more  to  incessant  practice 
than  to  science;  he  derived  all  from  his  predecessors 
which  he  has  bequeathed  to  posterity ;  but  if,  in  making 
the  transmission,  he  added  no  new  nor  essential  principle 
of  imitation  or  invention,  he  established  in  high  practical 
excellence  the  arts  of  his  country. 

Among  those  whose  labours  in  historical  painting  con- 
nect the  former  with  the  present  school,  Barry  stands  fore- 
most in  time  as  in  merit.  The  performances  of  this  ar- 
tist exhibit,  in  a  very  striking  manner,  the  justice  of  some 
of  the  preceding  remarks.  They  are  destitute  of  the 
most  essential  and  touching  graces  of  imitative  represen- 


PAINTING. 


203 


tation ;  they  want,  in  short,  all  that  portraiture,  which 
their  author  affected  to  despise,  could  have  given  —  life, 
nature,  truth,  and  sweetness,  without  this  absence  being 
compensated  by  any  extraordinary  beauties  of  what  is 
termed  higher  art.  The  drawing,  though  often  good,  is 
also  not  seldom  defective ;  while  the  coloring  is  uniformly 
harsh,  and  the  management  without  force.  Imagination 
and  invention  run  riot  without  due  control  of  the  judg- 
ment ;  not  that  the  fervor  of  poetic  enthusiasm  snatches 
a  too  daring  grace,  but  rather  the  unpruned  fertility  of 
conception  frequently  unites  the  most  glaring  incongrui- 
ties. Yet  Barry  is  far  from  being  without  power  or  science  ; 
his  great  deficiences  were  a  chaste  taste  and  mellowed 
practice.  No  man  better  understood,  or  has  written  more 
learnedly,  on  the  abstract  principles  of  composition ;  in- 
deed, he  has  been  accused  of  devoting  too  much  attention 
to  the  mere  theory  and  literature  of  his  art,  while  he  neg- 
lected Raphael's  golden  application  of  Cicero's  maxim  — 
'  Nulla  dies  sine  linea.'  There  existed,  however,  in  the 
character  of  Barry,  notwithstanding  a  rudeness  of  exte- 
rior, and  ignorance  or  disregard  of  the  proprieties  of  pol- 
ished life,  a  moral  grandeur  of  unshaken  resolve,  of  endur- 
ing enthusiasm,  of  stern  and  uncompromising  self-denial, 
in  his  professional  career,  which  invest  his  memory  with 
no  common  interest.  The  man  who  could  undertake, 
alone,  and  with  no  certain  prospect  of  remuneration,  one 
of  the  greatest  works  which  has  been  attempted  within 
two  centuries  —  and  that,  too,  with  only  sixteen  shillings 
in  his  pocket;  who,  during  seven  years  of  struggle,  pro- 
secuted that  work  to  a  completion,  often  thus  labouring 
all  day,  while  he  sat  up  the  greater  part  of  the  night  fin- 
ishing some  sketch  for  the  publishers,  in  order  to  make 
provision  for  the  passing  hour  ;  —  such  a  man  presents 
claims  to  admiration  of  higher  dignity  than  even  those  of 


204 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


genius.  The  great  work  undertaken  and  finished  amid 
these  difficulties,  is  the  series  of  six  pictures,  of  the  size 
oT  life,  representing  the  progress  of  civilization,  in  the 
Hall  of  the  Society  of  Arts  ;  and  it  reflects  the  highest 
honor  on  that  useful  institution,  that  its  gratuitous  reward 
enabled  the  artist  to  enjoy  his  only  permanent,  though 
small  income,  of  about  £60  yearly.  That  such  a  mem- 
ber should  have  been  ejected  from  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Great  Britain,  in  which  also  he  held  the  Chair  of  Paint- 
ing, must  be  considered  as  a  common  calamity  both  to 
that  body  and  to  himself:  to  him  it  certainly  was,  for  the 
degradation  embittered  the  enjoyment,  and  very  seriously 
impaired  the  means,  of  existence.  Barry  died  in  1806, 
having  been  born  at  Cork  in  1741  ;  rising  from  a  sailor 
boy,  chalking  his  rude  fancies  on  the  deck  of  his  father's 
coaster,  self-taught,  to  be  the  painter  now  described  — 
the  learned  writer  on  his  art  — the  friend  of  Samuel  John- 
son and  of  Edmund  Burke. 

Many  other  names  of  minor  reputation  might  be  men- 
tioned,—  as  Hayman,  Mortimer,  &,c, —  who  occasion- 
ally with  portrait,  painted  history,  but  to  no  extent.  This 
branch  of  the  art,  except  for  the  labours  of  the  late  Sir 
Benjamin  West,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century,  would 
almost  have  been  without  a  representative  amongst  us. 
From  that  period,  very  great  progress  in  all  the  depart- 
ments has  been  realized.  Still,  to,  the  ancient  grandeur 
of  the  historic  style  this  venerable  artist  has  continued  to 
make  the  nearest  approaches.  To  the  New  World,  suc- 
ceeding ages  will. stand  indebted  for  West;  but  for  the 
painter,  the  arts  are  under  obligation  to  England.  It  is 
singular,  too,  that  the  advice  and  services  of  a  Scotsman 
were  the  immediate  inducements  which  prevented  this 
ornament  of  two  "worlds  from  returning  to  his  native  coun- 
try, in  which  case  his  talents  would  most  probably  have 


PAINTING. 


205 


been  lost  to  both.  The  state  of  patronage  and  of  taste 
could  not  have  afforded  to  him  the  means  nor  the  incite- 
ment of  rising  beyond  portrait,  in  which  we  do  not  think 
West  would  ever  have  excelled.  Two  incidents  in  his  lot 
reflect  equal  honor  on  his  native  and  his  adopted  country, 
—  like  many  other  moral  analogies,  evincing  the  common 
possession  of  a  congenial  liberality  and  kindliness  of  spirit, 
which  ought,  and  will,  we  trust,  ever  mingle  its  best  affec- 
tions in  reciprocally  advantageous  and  amicable  inter- 
course. In  the  land  of  his  birth,  the  opening  genius  of 
West  was  cheered  with  a  truly  tender  solicitude;  his  fu- 
ture advance  and  his  future  fame  seemed  less  the  care  of 
individual  friends  than  of  his  countrymen.  And,  from 
1763,  on  first  setting  foot  in  Britain,  during  the  long 
course  of  his  life,  he  received  more  encouragement  from 
her  sovereign  and  her  people  than  has  ever  been  accorded 
to  any  historical  painter,  native  or  foreign ;  this,  too,  in 
the  midst  of  an  unhappy,  and,  as  then  considered,  rebel- 
lious contest. 

When  we  consider  the  labours  of  Sir  Benjamin,  in 
reference  either  to  English  or  Continental  art,  they  have, 
in  both  points  of  view,  a  high,  but  not  an  equal  rank.  In 
the  former,  they  are  unrivalled  in  magnitude,  in  progres- 
sive improvement,  and  in  the  excellence  of  the  principles 
upon  which  they  are  composed.  In  comparing  them  with 
foreign  art,  their  merits  are  not  so  absolute ;  but  here  we 
shall  use  the  words  of  the  present  accomplished  president. 
(  At  an  era,'  says  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 6  when  historical 
painting  was  at  the  lowest  ebb,  (with  the  few  exceptions 
which  the  claims  of  the  beautiful  and  the  eminent  permit- 
ted to  the  pencil  of  Sir  Joshua),  Mr  West,  sustained  by 
the  munificent  patronage  of  his  late  Majesty,  produced  a 
series  of  compositions,  from  sacred  and  profane  history, 
profoundly  studied,  and  executed  with  the  most  facile 
18 


206 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


power,  which  not  only  were  superior  to  any  former  pro- 
ductions of  English  art,  but,  far  surpassing  contemporary 
merit  on  the  Continent,  were  unequalled  at  any  period  be- 
low the  schools  of  the  Caracci.' 

In  support  of  this  high  encomium,  Sir  Thomas  instances 
4  the  Return  of  Regulus  to  Carthage/  and  'the  Ship- 
wreck of  St  Paul,'  —  pictures  which  amply  testify  the  su- 
periority we  have  assumed  to  exist  in  the  living  arts  of 
Britain.  These,  however,  are  by  no  means  the  only  mas- 
ter-pieces of  West,  whose  great  glory  it  is  to  have  pro- 
ceeded on  a  system  which  admits  of  indefinite,  and  which 
tends  to  certain  improvement.  Even  to  his  eightieth  year 
he  was  employed  in  new  exercises,  not  inferior  to,  or  in 
some  respects  excelling,  the  enterprises  of  his  vigorous 
strength.  The  cause  of  his  late  eminence  bears  strongly 
upon  the  whole  tenor  of  our  remarks  in  treating  of  Sculp- 
ture, and  will  best  be  explained  in  his  own  words.  In 
1811,  writing  to  Lord  Elgin,  the  artist  thus  expresses  him- 
self :  '  in  the  last  production  of  my  pencil,  which  I  now 
invite  your  lordship  to  see,  it  has  been  my  ambition,  though 
at  a  very  advanced  period  of  life,  to  introduce  those  refine- 
ments in  art,  which  are  so  distinguished  in  your  collec- 
tion/—  (the  Phidian  Marbles  of  the  Parthenon.)  'Had 
I  been  blest  with  seeing  and  studying  these  emanations  of 
genius  at  an  earlier  period  of  life,  the  sentiment  of  their 
pre-eminence  would  have  animated  all  my  exertions  ;  and 
more  character,  and  expression,  and  life,  would  have  per- 
vaded my  humble  attempts  at  historical  painting.' 

It  is  the  soundness  and  regularity  of  principle  expressed 
in,  or  whose  existence  is  clearly  deducible  from,  the  enter- 
taining of  such  views,  that  constitutes  the  great  merit  of 
the  pictures  of  West.  It  is  these  qualities,  too,  which 
impart  to  them  their  utility  and  high  value  as  a  school  of 
art.    As  far  as  they  go,  they  may  safely  and  without  re- 


PAINTING. 


207 


serve  be  recommended  to  the  student.  Here  he  will  not 
be  led  astray  by  brilliant  though  false  theory,  nor  degraded 
into  mannerism  by  peculiar  though  striking  modes,  which 
can  please  only  from  their  peculiarity,  and  when  they 
exhibit  the  result  of  native  invention.  All  here  is  placed 
upon  the  broad  highway  of  universal  art ;  all  is  equable, 
uniformly  correct,  firm,  and  respectable  ;  no  compensation 
of  error  by  an  occasional  loftiness  of  flight :  the  stream  of 
invention  sweeps  onward  calmly  and  majestically ;  if  not 
conducting  to  scenes  of  the  most  stupendous  sublimity, 
flowing  at  least  without  cataract  or  whirlpool,  through  a 
magnificence  which  is  grand  from  its  very  regularity  and 
usefulness.  In  these  works  we  discover  this,  perhaps  sin- 
gular character,  that  in  them  we  dotect  many  wants,  but 
no  defects.  The  composition,  grouping  and  symmetry, 
are  unexceptionable  ;  the  drawing  is  particularly  fine,  yet 
without  the  statue-like  design  of  the  French  school.  But 
to  animate  this  beautiful  framework  of  art  —  to  inspire 
these  moulds  of  form  and  emblems  of  intelligence  with 
action  and  sentiment  —  the  touch  of  that  genius,  to  whose 
final  aims  external  science  furnishes  the  bare  instrument, 
is  wanting.  The  representation  is  chaste  and  beautiful, 
but  it  is  too  clearly  a  representation ;  there  wants  the 
almost  o'er-informing  mind,  the  freshness  of  natural  feel- 
ing, which  give  to  art  its  truest,  only  mastery  over  the 
human  spirit. 

The  surpassing  softness  and  variety  of  our  island  scene- 
ry seems  to  have  inspired  a  corresponding  beauty  and 
vigorous  diversity  into  our  school  of  Landscape.  Rural 
imagery  may  almost  be  said  to  mingle  in  every  dream  of 
English  enjoyment.  Hence  this  department  of  our  arts  has 
always  been  popular,  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence  of 
encouragement,  has  been  cultivated  with  ardor  and  suc- 
cess.   Only,  indeed,  when  English  artists  have  forsaken 


208 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


English  nature,  or  have  attempted  to  unite  classical  alle- 
gory with  heroic  landscape,  as  it  is  called,  have  they  failed 
in  this  delightful  branch.  From  an  early  period  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  tjie  school  may  be  said  to  commence, 
and  thenceforward  may  justly  be  said  to  have  remained 
unrivalled  by  contemporary  merit  in  any  other  country. 
One  department  indeed  of  landscape,  and  that  too  a  very 
charming  one,  namely  water-color,  has  been,  by  British 
artists,  not  only  invented,  it  may  be  said,  but  raised  into  a 
most  beautiful  and  useful  branch  of  dignified  art.  Nor 
let  landscape  be  deemed,  as  too  frequently,  an  inferior  de- 
partment :  it  certainly  requires  not  the  highest  genius,  yet 
so  many  qualities  must  unite  in  the  same  individual  before 
he  can  attain  excellence  here,  that  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
used  to  say,  '  there  is  more  likely  to  be  another  Raphael 
than  a  second  Claude/  Yet  more  than  one  native  has 
approached  the  eminence  of  the  latter. 

Commencing  with  the  last  century,  the  following  ar- 
rangement will  include  the  most  esteemed  landscape  paint- 
ers of  this  country. 

First  Class.  Wilson,  born  1714,  died  1782,  the  first 
of  English  landscape  painters ;  aerial  perspective  very 
fine,  not  surpassed  by  Claude ;  great  fidelity  in  represent- 
ing natural  effects  ;  coloring,  especially  in  his  later  pic- 
tures, somewhat  dry ;  objects  rather  indeterminate.  Gains- 
borough, 1727  —  88;  a  painter  of  universal  but  irregular 
genius;  in  his  landscapes  the  most  decidedly  English  of 
all  our  great  masters.  Wright,  1734  —  97;  exquisite 
finishing  and  wonderful  effects  of  light,  especially  in  his 
Eruption  of  Vesuvius,  rising  and  setting  sun ;  touch  deli- 
cate ;  coloring  fresh  and  transparent.  Morland,  1764  — 
1806 ;  it  is  not  easy  exactly  to  class  this  artist,  as  his  land- 
scapes are  generally  accessory  only  to  his  figures,  while 
these  Jatter  are  hardly  of  sufficient  interest  without  such 


PAINTING. 


209  • 


accessories.  Whatever  Morland  accomplished  was  rather  by 
the  force  of  genius,  than  through  study  or  knowledge, 
with  the  exception  of  some  of  his  pictures  painted  about 
1789  —  95.  His  great  excellences  lie  in  the  unaffected 
exhibition  of  broad  and  vulgar  character,  and  in  the  rep- 
resentation of  domestic  animals,  pigs,  sheep,  donkeys, 
and  worn-out  horses ;  for  as  he  drew  merely  by  force  of 
eye,  his  ignorance  of  anatomy  prevented  him  from  at- 
tempting that  'noble  creature'  in  perfect  condition. 
Moreland's  back-grounds  and  distances  are  often  truly 
admirable. 

Second  Class.  Wooton,  died  1765,  excellent  in  field- 
sports,  horses,  dogs,  and  landscape ;  but  his  touch  and 
coloring  are  indistinct.  Lambert,  1710  — 1765,  chaste 
and  harmonious  coloring,  with  a  slight  degree  of  mono- 
tony ;  distances  sweet ;  followed  G.  Poussin,  whose  occa- 
sional faults  in  harshness  and  black  shadow  he  has  avoided, 
though  left  far  behind  in  sublimity  and  variety  of  compo- 
sition. Barrett,  from  the  sister  isle,  self-instructed,  yet 
none  of  our  native  school  has  more  happily  caught  the 
characteristic  features  of  English  landscape :  his  touch, 
though  defective  in  detail,  is  rapid,  and  forcibly  distin- 
guishes, at  least  by  their  general  forms,  the  different  ele- 
ments of  natural  composition.  Marlow,  concerning  whom 
there  are  no  exact  dates,  and  Scott,  born  in  1710,  died  in 
1772,  —  both  excel  in  marine  views;  the  latter  is  scarcely 
surpassed  by  the  best  masters  of  the  Flemish  school,  and 
the  finishing  of  the  former  is  particularly  happy,  though 
he  fails  in  trees,  when  attempting  inland  scenery. 

Third  Class.  This  division  includes  many  landscape 
painters  of  various,  some,  indeed,  of  very  high  merit, 
wholse  labours  extend  from  the  commencement  of  the 
eighteenth  to  an  early  part  of  the  present  century.  Of 
this  class  the  principal  names  are  the  following :  Smiths 
18* 


210 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


of  Chichester,  especially  John  and  George,  and  Smith  of 
Derby;  —  it  is  singular  that  all  three  were  self-taught. 
The  two  Gilpins  of  Carlisle ;  the  elder  by  pictures  of 
horses  and  wild  animals,  and  the  Rev.  William  Gilpin,  by 
his  writings  and  landscapes,  have  added  much  to  this  de- 
partment. Sandby  of  Nottingham,  a  most  exquisite  land- 
scape daughtsman  ,  as  also  were  Cozens  and  Hearne, 
whose  paintings  have  great  value  in  fidelity,  and  whose 
drawings  contributed  not  a  little  towards  forming  the 
present  school  of  water-color  painting.  Tull  imitated  too 
closely  the  Dutch  masters.  Wheately  excelled  both  in 
minor  history  and  landscape,  especially  in  rural  subjects. 
Dean,  a  native  of  Ireland,  some  good  Italian  landscapes. 
Dayes,  Devis,  of  which  names  there  were  three  artists 
more  or  less  connected  with  landscape.  Two  Pethers  of 
Chichester;  William,  both  a  painter  and  engraver  of  land- 
scapes ;  Abraham  excelled  in  moonlight  scenes,  exercis- 
ing the  pencil  with  remarkable  sweetness,  luxuriance,  and 
transparency  of  coloring ;  he  died  in  1812. 

Of  all  the  landscape  painters  of  the  British  school, 
Wilson  and  Gainsborough  are  undoubtedly  the  first ;  nor 
is  it  easy  to  discriminate  between  them.  Wilson  excels 
in  splendour  of  effect  and  magnificence  of  composition  ; 
but  Gainsborough  is  more  natural  and  pleasing,  at  least  in 
his  early  pictures,  Latterly  he  introduced  the  notion  of 
an  ideal  beauty  in  rural  nature,  which  has  too  frequently 
been  imitated.  Both  possessed  genius  in  no  ordinary  de- 
gree :  but  though  to  the  first  has  been  conceded  the  higher 
walk  as  it  has  been  called,  because  imaginative,  to  the 
latter  belongs  that  temperament  of  mind  more  essential, 
we  think,  to  the  landscape  painter,  which  powerfully  con- 
ceives the  objects  of  contemplation,  and  places  them  in 
vivid  reality  before  the  eye  and  the  fancy.  Each  has 
failed  in  the  grand  difficulty  of  landscape  —  the  proper 


PAINTING. 


211 


introduction  of  figures ;  and  in  the  besetting  defect  of  the 
English  school  —  slovenly  execution,  and  want  of  detail. 
Here  the  remarks  are  not  confined  to  these  artists  alone, 
but  express  rather  the  general  character.  Among  the 
masters  of  historical  painting,  as  Titian,  Caracci,  N. 
Poussin,  Rubens,  who  excelled  in  landscape  incidentally, 
as  it  were,  the  scene  is  always  subordinate  to  the  figures. 
This  is  generally  the  case,  too,  with  those  who  more  di- 
rectly professed  historical  or  heroic  landscape,  as  Salvator 
Rosa,  Albano,  Franceso  Bolonese,  with  many  of  the  most 
celebrated  Flemish  and  Dutch  artists.  In  this  case  the 
landscape  is  introduced  either  to  exhibit  some  scenic  pro- 
priety, or  as  a  mere  embellishment  of  the  historical  design. 
The  great  difficulty  here  lies  in  maintaining  subordina- 
tion and  unity,  yet  preserving  the  interest,  of  the  respec- 
tive parts  of  the  composition.  In  these  beauties  Claude 
completely  fails,  as  do  also  Wilson,  and  most  English 
artists  who  have  made  the  attempt.  The  landscape  over- 
whelms the  story,  while  the  story  generally  discredits  the 
landscape  ;  or,  the  attention  being  equally  divided  between 
both,  the  interest  of  each  is  weakened.  This  is  some- 
times the  case  with  Gainsborough,  often  with  Morland, 
and  still  more  frequently  in  the  Dutch  school.  In  land- 
scape painting,  properly  considered,  the  figures  should 
always  be  subordinate,  forming  merely  a  part  of,  and  cor- 
responding with,  the  scene ;  most  especially  when  that 
scene  is  from  nature,  and  with  her  beauties  ever  fresh 
renewed,  inexhaustible  —  there  is  something  almost  un- 
hallowed in  thrusting  upon  us  the  inferior,  and  mannered 
and  crowded  compositions  of  mere  imagination.  Nor  is 
it  a  matter  merely  of  taste  ;  everything  which  has  a  ten- 
dency to  lead  the  mind  and  the  imagination  of  the  artist 
away  from  nature,  tends  also  to  the  deterioration  of  art. 
Hence  the  absurdities  so  visible  in  the  history  of  this  par- 


212 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ticular  branch  —  Nature  represented  as  if  seen  through  a 
Claude-Lorraine-glass  —  skies  gleaming  and  glaring  under 
the  appellations  of  sunrises  and  sunsets,  —  buildings  of 
fantastic  form  and  uninhabitable  dimensions,  under  the 
name  of  Italian  ruins  ■ —  foliage  and  fields  in  every  variety 
of  tint,  save  the  soft,  quiet,  unobtrusive  hues  of  leaves 
and  herbage.  Surely  of  all  painters,  the  British  land- 
scape painter  is  least  excusable  in  deviating  from  the  real- 
ity around  him,  which  presents  every  element  of  his  art 
in  its  best  perfection,  from  the  softest  beauty  in  a  fresh- 
ness of  dewy  verdure  elsewhere  unknown,  to  the  wildest 
sublimity  of  lake,  mountain,  wood,  and  torrent !  Even  in 
the  gorgeous  magnificence  of  our  changing  sky,  there  is 
a  gloriousness,  and  grandeur  of  effect,  which  we  have 
never  seen  even  in  Italy.  If,  again,  he  seek  for  objects  of 
moral  interest,  there  is  the  feudal  fortalice  —  the  cloistered 
abbey  —  the  storied  minster  —  the  gothic  castle,  with  all 
their  rich  associations ;  —  there  the  mouldering  monu- 
ment—  the  fields  of  conflict,  the  scenes  of  tradition,  of 
poetry,  and  of  love  —  and,  far  amid  the  wild  upland, 
gleams  the  mossy  stone,  and  bends  the  solitary  ash,  over 
the  martyr  of  his  faith.  For  such  as  these  the  imagina- 
tion can  give  us  no  equivalents. 

Coarse  and  undetailed,  though  talented,  execution,  has 
overspread  every  department  of  the  British  school.  In 
the  present  branch,  however,  this  manner  seems  especially 
misplaced.  A  landscape  painting,  more  than  any  other, 
is  viewed  merely  as  a  work  of  art.  Consequently,  the 
mind  feels  dissatisfied  in  the  absence  of  those  qualities  of 
finished  execution  and  delicate  management,  which  con- 
stitute the  essential  value  and  character  of  art  as  such. 
The  imitation  requires  not  only  to  be  general ;  but,  to  give 
entire  pleasure,  we  must  be  enabled  also  to  trace  with 
ease  minute  and  varied  resemblances.    The  work  thus 


PAINTING. 


213 


affords  almost  the  endless  gratification  of  nature's  own 
productions.  But  we  shall  not  rest  the  objections  to  loose 
practice  on  grounds  that  might  be  disputed  as  a  matter  of 
dubious  taste.  The  evil  is  not  stayed  in  the  effect,  but 
endangers  the  very  existence  of  its  own  rapid  creations. 
Where  the  study  is  general  effect  only,  the  next  object 
must  necessarily  be  to  produce  that  effect  speedily  :  in- 
deed, such  a  style  completely  excludes  the  care  requisite 
to  proper  elaboration  and  transparent  coloring.  Hence 
tints  are  used,  which  soonest  attain  to  the  general  end  in 
view  ;  but  such  tints  are  exactly  those  which  fade  the 
soonest.  Hence  the  blackness,  rawness,  and  want  of  har- 
mony, in  so  many  English  landscapes.  Hence,  also,  the 
clear  and  silvery  tones  which  seem  indestructible  in  the 
exquisitely  finished  landscapes  of  Claude,  and  the  most 
eminent  foreign  artists.  Generally,  indeed,  the  best  mas- 
ters in  this  branch  are  decidedly  those  who  have  finished 
with  due  care.  Of  the  works  of  our  own  school,  those 
are  also  the  most  excellent  as  essays  of  genius,  which 
are  the  most  judiciously  laboured  as  performances  of  art. 

We  may  now  turn  our  attention  for  a  little  to  the  past 
state  of  painting  in  Scotland.  During  the  eighteenth 
century,  though  there  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  existed 
any  separate  style,  so  as  to  merit  the  distinction  of  a 
school  apart  from  that  of  the  empire  generally,  yet 
several  very  respectable  Scottish  artists  are  found  to  have 
practised  both  in  London  and  Edinburgh.  In  the  latter 
capital,  towards  the  close  of  that  period,  a  school  gradu- 
ally arose,  which,  considering  the  resources  of  the 
country,  the  opportunities  of  improvement,  the  means  of 
patronage,  and  latterly,  the  merits  of  its  individual 
masters,  especially  of  its  head,  the  late  Sir  Henry  Rae- 
burn,  displays  an  inferiority  certainly  not  greater  than 
might  reasonably  be  expected,    Or  we  will  go  farther ; 


214 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


when  the  invigorating  influence  of  royal  countenance 
and  protection  upon  the  fine  arts,  the  superior  wealth 
and  intelligence  congregated  in  the  seat  of  legislature, 
are  viewed  —  all  concurring  to  foster  and  advance  art  in 
the  capital ;  and  when,  on  the  other  hand,  we  reflect, 
not  merely  on  the  absence  of  these  advantages,  but  on 
the  positive  detriment  of  a  non-resident  nobility,  whose 
presence  might  in  some  measure  supply  other  deficien- 
cies, it  must  be  matter  of  astonishment,  not  that  Scottish 
painting  is  inferior,  but  that  it  is  so  nearly  equal,  to  that 
of  London.  But  there  needs  not  an  appeal  merely  to 
relative  excellence ;  the  absolute  merits  of  some  of  the 
masters  now  in  Edinburgh,  or  belonging  to  Scotland,  are 
not  surpassed  in  their  respective  departments.  It  is  far 
from  the  intention,  in  these  remarks,  to  institute  any  in- 
vidious distinctions,  but  to  state  fairly  the  claims  of 
Edinburgh,  and  that  the  talents  of  her  artists,  and  the 
zeal  of  her  people,  place  her,  not  among  the  secondary 
cities,  but  among  the  capitals  of  Europe.  It  ought  also 
to  be  remembered,  that  in  no  instance  are  the  arts  of 
any  kingdom  more  indebted,  than  those  of  the  British 
Empire* to  Scotsmen.  Not  to  mention  the  exertions  of 
Gavin  Hamilton,  himself  an  artist,  whose  discoveries  and 
knowledge  of  antique  art  materially  assisted  the  general 
restoration  of  taste  —  and  we  do  know  that,  in  this  light, 
Canova  both  regarded  and  ever  spoke  of  him  with  grati- 
tude —  there  are  two  cases  more  immediate  to  the  present 
purpose.  Sir  William  Hamilton,  at  his  own  risk  and 
expense,  though  afterwards,  as  was  only  proper,  in  part 
repaid,  made  the  most  splendid  collection  of  ancient 
vases  now  in  the  world,  excepting  that  of  Naples. 
These  are  in  the  British  Museum,  and  have  not  merely 
refined  taste,  but  have  most  materially  improved  the  use- 
ful arts  of  the  country.    The  Ear]  of  Elgin's  inestimable 


PAINTING. 


215 


treasures  of  ancient  sculpture  have  enriched  Britain  with 
examples  of  unrivalled  excellence,  and  which  have 
already  mainly  contributed  to  the  present  superiority  of 
her  genius  in  art.  These  precious  remains,  with  inde- 
fatigable assiduity,  at  a  ruinous  and  hopeless  expenditure, 
collected  —  an  enterprise  in  which  kings  had  formerly 
failed  —  he  gave  to  his  country  on  repayment  of  not 
nearly  his  own  outlay,  though  we  have  reason  to  know, 
through  the  late  venerable  Denon,  that  the  former  gov- 
ernment of  France  offered  to  the  possessor  his  own  terms. 
The  meritorious  act  of  removal  indeed  has,  with  school- 
boy enthusiasm,  and  maudlin  sentimentality,  been  de- 
plored as  a  despoiling  of  a  classic  monument.  How 
utterly  absurd  is  this,  to  lament  that  the  time-honored 
labours  of  ancient  Greece  did  not  sink  for  ever  beneath  the 
violence  of  the  despot  and  the  ignorance  of  the  slave, 
instead  of  being,  as  now,  in  the  midst  of  an  admiring 
and  enlightened  people,  shedding  abroad  their  beauty  and 
their  intelligence,  again  to  revive  in  our  living  arts ! 

Jamieson,  the  first  of  whom  there  is  interesting  notice, 
and  one  of  the  most  accomplished  of  the  Scottish  artists, 
died  in  Edinburgh  1644.  His  labours,  with  those  of  the 
succeeding  century,  are  connected  by  works  and  names, 
as  Norrie,  elder  and  younger,  now  fast  hastening,  or 
already,  with  no  injustice,  consigned,  to  oblivion.  The 
times,  agitated  as  they  were  by  political  and  religious 
dissensions,  offered  little  encouragement  to  the  arts  of 
elegance  and  peace.  Throughout  the  early  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  however,  to  the  era  even  of  Sir  Josh- 
ua Reynolds,  individual  artists,  natives  of  Scotland,  may 
be  mentioned,  of  attainments  and  practice  superior  to  any 
in  the  history  of  painting  during  the  same  period  in 
England.  The  cause  of  this  is  evident  in  the  more 
accomplished  professional   education  which  the  former 


216 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


received.  The  intercourse  between  Scotland  and  Italy, 
owing  to  various  political  causes,  and  to  the  great  num- 
ber of  Scotch  residents  in  the  latter  country,  was  then 
very  close  ;  hence,  after  attaining  all  that  home  instruction 
could  give,  hardly  a  single  Scottish  artist  of  eminence  can 
be  mentioned,  who  had  not,  by  an  abode  in  Italy,  finished 
his  studies  where  alone  the  highest  and  truest  knowledge 
can  be  obtained.  It  would  be  needless  to  combat  the 
opinion,  that  such  a  process  is  unnecessary.  No  artist, 
with  a  mind  open  to  the  real  beauties  of  his  profession, 
can  visit  Italy  without  reaping  the  most  solid  advantages, 
otherwise  unattainable.  In  this  respect,  too,  the  Scottish 
artist  seemed  to  enjoy  a  security  in  the  very  poverty  <5f 
native  art;  for  if  he  saw  little  to  excite  ambition,  enough 
remained  to  direct  study,  without  taste  being  influenced 
by  the  popularity  of  false  modes.  Hence  it  is  not  more 
than  justice  to  state,  that  in  the  works  of  the  following 
names,  there  is  to  be  found  a  more  uniformly  pure  and 
dignified  style,  if  not  of  higher  excellence,  than  generally 
distinguishes  contemporary  art. 

Ramsay,  son  of  the  poet,  inherited  no  small  portion  of 
his  father's  love  of  nature,  and  power  of  unaffected 
delineation  of  her  simplicity.  His  portraits  present,  in 
these  respects,  a  charm  quite  refreshing,  when  compared 
with  the  staring  mannerism  of  the  Anglo-German  school, 
founded  by  Lely  and  Kneller.  Ramsay  remained  three 
years  in  Italy,  from  1736.  Of  his  accomplishments,  Dr 
Johnson  has  left  this  testimony  :  '  you  will  not  find  a 
man  in  whose  conversation  there  is  more  instruction, 
more  information,  and  more  elegance,  than  in  Ramsay's.' 
Runciman,  an  excellent  draughtsman  and  pleasing  col- 
orist,  born  in  1736.  Several  historical  paintings,  executed 
at  Rome  and  in  Edinburgh,  evince  very  considerable 
powers  both  of  composition  and  practice.    He  was  for  a 


PAINTING. 


217 


length  of  time  a  very  efficient  teacher  in  the  Scottish 
Academy  of  design.  More,  the  Scottish  Claude,  as  he  is 
sometimes  termed,  whom  also  he  selected  as  his  model. 
Without,  however,  reaching  the  depth  of  coloring  and 
beautiful  nature  which  are  found  in  that  admirable  painter, 
there  are  many  stations  which  may  be  filled  with  honor. 
In  one  of  these  More  is  to  be  placed,  while  his  figures 
have  very  great  propriety  both  of  selection  and  in  the 
manner  of  introducing  them.  His  subjects  are  usually 
Italian  scenes,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  where  he 
chiefly  resided,  and  died  in  1795.  To  these,  other  names 
of  considerable  merit  might  be  added,  as  Cochrane,  Sir 
George  Chalmers ;  Barker,  too,  the  inventor  of  panoramic 
painting,  was,  we  believe,  a  native  of  Scotland,  at  least, 
the  first  work  of  the  kind  ever  exhibited  was  in  Edinburgh. 
Martin,  who  visited  Italy  in  company  with  Ramsay, 
practised  portrait  painting  with  considerable  reputation, 
till  he  retired  from  his  professional  labours  on  the  increas- 
ing and  merited  popularity  of  his  distinguished  contem- 
porary, under  whom  the  Scottish  school  assumes  a  dignified 
importance,  heretofore  denied  to  its  comparatively  isolated 
endeavors. 

Sir  Henry  Raeburn,  the  representative  of  painting  in 
Scotland  from  1787  to<  his  death  1823,  was  born  in  a 
suburb  of  the  capital,  1756.  Of  all  the  distinguished 
artists  who  have  attained  excellence,  without  any  peculi- 
arity of  manner,  perhaps  Raeburn  owes  least  to  others 
and  most  to  himself  in  the  acquisition  of  his  art.  Origi- 
nally apprenticed  to  a  goldsmith,  it  does  not  appear  that 
he  ever  received  a  single  lesson  from  a  master  even  in  the 
ordinary  accomplishments  of  drawing.  From  painting 
miniatures  with  success  during  his  apprenticeship,  he 
turned  his  attention  to  large  portraiture  in  oil,  with  no 
other  assistance  than  merely  copying  a  few  portraits  could 
19 


218 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


give.  Even  these  early  productions  must  have  possessed 
merit,  since  they  obtained  the  approbation  of  Sir  Joshua, 
by  whose  advice  he  visited  Italy,  remaining  abroad  two 
years,  thus  completing  the  round  of  his  professional 
studies. 

The  character  of  Sir  Henry's  art  participates  strongly 
in  that  which  has  prevailed  in  British  portraiture  during 
the  last  fifty  years.    It  in  fact  presents  the  very  ideal  of 
that  style  whose  aim  is  to  speak  most  powerfully  to  the 
imagination,  through  the  slenderest  means  addressed  to 
the  eye.    His  pictures  afford  the  finest,  we  might  say  the 
most  wonderful  examples,  how  far  detail  may  be  sacrificed, 
and  yet   general  effect  and   striking    resemblance  be 
retained.    In  this  respect  he  has  carried  the  principles  of 
Sir  Joshua  to  the  very  verge  of  indistinctness ;  but  what 
is  given  has  such  vigorous  meaning,  that  in  the  power  of 
the  leading  forms,  the  fancy  discovers  an  intelligence, 
which,  overspreading  the  whole  composition,  and  bursting 
from  each  master  line,  guides  the  mind  triumphantly  over 
the  blank  masses  often  composing  the  interior.    If,  then, 
to  produce  strong  effect,  by  whatsoever  means,  be  the  ob- 
ject of  art,  Raeburn  has  succeeded  beyond  most  painters  ; 
but  if  true  excellence  consist  in  blending  into  one  har- 
monious whole  the  delicate  markings  and  grand  contours 
of  nature,  he  has  failed  ;  if  pictures  are  to  be  viewed  only 
on  the  walls  of  a  gallery,  at  a  distance  from  the  spectator, 
his  portraits  correspond  with  this  arrangement ;  but  if  the 
eye  loves  to  rest  upon  features  dear  to  the  affections,  or 
prized  by  the  understanding  —  if  delight  to  trace  the 
shades  of  feeling  and  the  lines  of  thought  —  if  these 
wishes  can  be  gratified,  and  are  indulged  in  the  master- 
pieces of  art,  then  does  Raeburn,  and  not  only  he,  but 
the  great  majority  of  the  English  school,  rest  far  behind. 
The  error,  in  his  individual  instance,  as  in  most  others, 


PAINTING. 


219 


lies  in  the  system.  To  this,  also,  which  recognizes  mere 
effect  and  general  resemblance  as  all,  is  to  be  ascribed 
his  frequent  disregard  of  correct  outline,  his  black  and 
square  shadows,  and  coarseness  of  coloring.  Yet  Rae- 
burn  saw  nature  with  the  eye  of  true  genius,  for  he 
caught  her  essential  forms,  and  often  her  most  effective 
graces  ;  but  either  his  industry  disdained,  or  his  art  was 
unable,  to  add  the  rest. 

The  leading  events  and  principal  masters  in  the  past 
history  of  British  art  have  now  been  rapidly  surveyed. 
Upon  the  living  ornaments  of  the  school,  individually,  it 
scarcely  falls  under  the  province  of  the  annalist,  nor  is  it 
his  intention,  to  dwell.  It  is  not,  that  matter  of  still  far- 
ther congratulation  would  not  thus  be  afforded  in  the 
evidence  of  national  progress ;  for  at  no  time  has  the 
English  school  occupied  a  more  elevated  position,  whether 
compared  with  others,  or  with  itself.  But,  estimated  thus 
highly  and  thus  truly,  the  general  eminence  has  still  grada- 
tions, which,  in  entering  upon  detail,  it  would  be  incumbent 
to  point  out.  The  responsibility  of  this  duty  it  is  the  wish 
to  avoid.  An  opinion  ventured  upon  works  left  by  their 
authors  to  the  guardianship  of  posterity,  may  be  canvassed 
in  its  truth  or  falsehood  as  an  abstract  criticism,  without 
either  wounding  the  feelings  of  the  living,  or,  it  may  be, 
injuring  the  value  of  professional  labour.  From  judicious 
observations  when  called  for,  an  artist  has  to  fear  nothing, 
and  may  profit  much ;  but  it  should  ever  be  remembered, 
that  the  professional  merit  must  be  humble  indeed,  which 
does  not  render  the  possessor  superior  to  his  self-consti- 
tuted judge,  who  is  himself  not  an  artist.  A  sound  judg- 
ment in  literature,  or  an  acquaintance  with  the  general 
principles  upon  which  all  works  of  taste  must  necessarily 
be  conducted,  are  not  sufficient,  without  practical  skill, 
truly  to  estimate  a  production  of  art.    The  poet  employs 


220  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

vehicles  of  thought  and  signs  of  expression  familiar  to  all 
as  the  use  of  reason;  the  means  and  instruments  of  the 
painter  constitute  in  their  management  a  peculiar  science, 
in  which  excellence  or  defect  is  less  appreciable  by  natural 
or  untrained  observation.  Neglect  of  these  principles  of 
criticism  has  exposed  to  groundless  censure,  and  to  as  in- 
jurious praise,  both  arts  and  artists. 

When  it  is  stated,  that  the  modern  English  school  sur- 
passes every  other  in  Europe,  the  inference  is  not  to  be 
assumed,  that  painting  elsewhere  has  retrograded,  but 
that,  with  us,  art  has  advanced  beyond  the  general  im- 
provement. During  the  present  century,  painting  in 
France  has  been  superior  to  any  thing  produced  in  that 
country  since  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  or,  perhaps,  it  has 
in  this  space  attained  a  greater  glory.  Italy  has  more 
than  one  master,  who,  in  purity  of  style  at  least,  excels 
any  predecessor  within  the  last  fifty  years.  Now,  if  the 
representatives  of  these  respective  schools  be  compared, 
or  if  the  universal  works  of  each  be  taken  as  the  criterion 
of  merit,  in  either  case  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  show, 
that  separately,  or  as  a  school,  the  British  artists  of  the 
present  age  have  made  the  greatest  attainments  towards 
excellence. 

But  compared  with  ourselves,  has  our  course  also  been 
progressive  ?  The  affirmative  here  it  is  more  difficult  to 
prove.  Reynolds,  Hogarth,  Wilson,  Gainsborough,  all 
contemporaries,  certainly  present  a  rare  combination  of 
genius  and  art.  But  besides  these  stars  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude, every  other  '  lesser  light '  twinkles  with  diminished 
ray.  Now,  as  respects  the  general  diffusion  of  most  re- 
spectable eminence,  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  at 
present.  In  every  branch,  more  than  one  master  of  high 
talent  might  be  mentioned.  Again,  considering  the  repre- 
sentatives of  each  department  in  the  present  and  in  the 


PAINTING. 


221 


former  age,  there  can  be  no  hesitation,  everything  consid- 
ered, in  giving  the  preference  to  our  contemporaries.  A 
remark  of  the  late  learned  Fuseli  is  here  quite  to  the  pur- 
pose, while  in  itself  perfectly  correct :  '  The  works  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  are  unequal,  many  of  them  are  indiffer- 
ent, though  some  cannot  be  surpassed  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  even  the  most  inferior  picture  from  the  pencil  of 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  is  excellent.5  It  is  this  extended 
and  uniform  excellence,  as  has  appeared  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  these  investigations,  which  constitutes 
not  only  individual  superiority,  but  which  tends,  most 
directly  and  most  surely,  to  the  exaltation  of  art. 

Hogarth,  again,  stands  alone  rather  in  the  peculiar  dra- 
matic character  of  his  performances,  than  in  their  beauty 
or  science,  as  bearing  upon  the  promotion  of  universal 
improvement,  or  even  as  individual  pieces  of  painting, 
His  pictures,  also,  with  few  exceptions,  are  rather  isolated 
representations  than  general  exhibitions  of  manners ;  they 
are  scenes  displaying  the  singularities,  more  than  the  lead- 
ing actions  and  feelings  of  life.  Their  effect  is  broad  and 
true,  and  the  moral  powerful ;  but  both  are  circumscribed 
by  times,  and  by  partial  divisions  among  mankind.  Wil- 
li ic,  whose  style  of  composition  most  nearly  resembles 
Hogarth's,  and  with  whom,  therefore,  he  is  to  be  com- 
pared, white  he  preserves  all  the  force  of  individual  char- 
acter and  delineation  of  living  nature,  has  extended  a  far 
more  comprehensive  grasp  of  mind  over  the  moralities  of 
his  subject.  He  has  brought  within  the  pencil's  magic 
sway,  and  fixed  there  in  permanent  reality,  the  sorrows 
and  the  joys,  the  hopes,  fears,  and  attachments,  the  occu- 
pations, customs,  habits,  and  even  amusements,  of  a  whole 
unchanging  class  of  mankind.  This  may  appear  to  have 
been  before  accomplished,  both  in  the  English  and  Flem- 
ish schools.  But  here  lies  the  distinction  :  Hogarth  rep- 
19* 


222 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


resents  general  ideas  by  particular  signs.  His  forms  and 
his  expressions  are  individual  modifications  of  the  limited 
society  to  which  they  belong.  The  conceptions  of  Wil- 
kie  are  the  idealisms  of  his  models.  Each  figure  is  not 
only  pregnant  with  individuality  of  character  and  life,  but 
is  the  true  representative  of  the  class  whose  constituent  it 
is.  Each  expression,  though  generally  but  the  index  of 
humble  feeling,  sends  abroad  into  the  heart  of  every  spec- 
tator its  artless  appeal.  He.  has  thus,  in  fact,  applied  the 
generalizations  of  higher  art  to  the  interests  of  common 
life,  yet  preserving  its  simplicity,  its  humbleness,  and 
reality.  The  Dutch  painters,  again,  have  painted  vulgar 
instead  of  common  nature ;  nor,  in  the  complete  range  of 
their  school,  is  there  once  an  example  of  that  delightful 
sentiment,  which  our  countryman  has  so  successfully  cast 
over  his  most  lowly  scenes,  and  by  which  he  has  redeemed 
them  from  every^  approach  to  vulgarity,  without  falling,  as 
Gainsborough,  has  sometimes  done,  into  insipidity  or  man- 
nerism. 

In  landscape,  Turner  has  extended  the  boundaries  of 
his  art  by  the  invention  of  prismatic  colors,  and  by  his 
novel  applications  of  them.  He  is  therefore  decidedly  a 
more  original  artist  than  Wilson,  whose  best  works  are 
those  composed  in  imitation  of  Claude.  But  Turner  by 
no  means  stands  so  much  alone  as  did  the  masters  of  the 
former  age ;  names  in  both  divisions  of  Britain  might  be 
mentioned  his  equals  in  more  than  one  respect.  In  the 
historical  department,  again,  if  we  admit  the  late  Presi- 
dent's works,  there  can  be  no  comparison  between  these 
and  any  former  labours  of  the  English  school.  But  in  all 
the  possible  varieties  of  historical  composition,  there  are 
artists  of  great  excellence  either  now  living,  or  who  have 
been  taken  from  us  within  these  few  years ;  as  Haydn, 
Martin,  Allan  of  Edinburgh,  Heapy,  Collings,  Fuseli, 


PAINTING. 


223 


Harlow,  Stothard,  Cooper,  Landseer,  with  others.  In 
portraiture,  Jackson,  Phillips,  and  others,  show,  that  even 
high  excellence  is  not  so  confined  as  in  the  time  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds.  Lawrence  is  indeed  the  first  artist  in 
Europe,  but  he  is  ably  supported.  A  little  anecdote  may 
here  give  some  idea  of  the  powers  of  Sir  Thomas's  pen- 
cil. On  visiting,  one  evening,  the  apartment  in  the  Vati- 
can where  his  splendid  portrait  of  George  IV.,  in  corona- 
tion robes,  was  then  exhibited,  we  were  much  struck  with 
the  fixed  attention  immediately  directed  to  it  by  an  indi- 
vidual who  had  just  entered.  A  deeper  interest  was  ex- 
cited on  perceiving  the  stranger  to  be  a  celebrated  native 
artist.  Continuing  for  some  time  in  total  abstraction, 
during  which  the  workings  of  his  countenance  clearly 
indicated  admiration  or  astonishment,  and,  we  thought, 
disappointment,  with  a  sudden  unconscious  gesticulation, 
he  exclaimed  aloud,  *  Dio  —  il  tramontane! '  as  if  saying 
1  Heavens  !  can  that  have  been  painted  beyond  the  Alps  !' 
and  abruptly  hurried  away. 

From  the  preceding  remarks,  and  the  names  now  enu- 
merated, who  are  mentioned  without  any  reference  to 
comparative  rank  or  merit  as  to  each  other,  two  inferences 
are  deducible  :  first,  That  the  masters  more  immediately 
in  the  public  eye,  as  now  at  the  head  of  the  various  de- 
partments of  art,  are  on  the  whole  superior  to  those  of 
the  last  age  ;  and,  secondly,  That  between  the  former  and 
their  present  contemporaries,  the  interval  is  small  in  com- 
parison with  the  position  occupied  by  Reynolds,  Hogarth, 
Wilson,  or  Gainsborough,  in  relation  to  the  school  over 
which  they  presided.  Hence  the  general  conclusion 
seems  evident,  that  in  Britain,  the  art,  as  compared  with 
itself,  has  continued  to  improve. 

Compared  with  foreign  art,  the  distinctive  character  of 
the  English  school  is  strongly  marked.    Painting  on  the 


224 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Continent  exhibits  a  striking  uniformity  of  style,  with 
such  peculiarities  as,  on  a  general  view,  will  not  lessen 
the  truth  of  a  common  classification.  The  Continental 
artist,  then,  studies  to  detail,  but  fails  in  power  of  gene- 
ral effect ;  his  performances  are  more  valuable  as  works 
of  art  and  of  imitation,  than  of  imagination  or  abstract 
resemblance.  The  parts  are  beautifully  made  out,  finely 
drawn ;  but  the  whole  is  too  seldom  connected  by  any 
animating  principle  of  general  similitude,  uniting  the  sep- 
arate elaborations  into  one  broad  and  forcible  harmony.  0 
Hence  the  dry,  the  meagre,  and  the  disjointed  particulars, 
the  usual  components  of  their  labours,  though  in  them- 
selves truer  than  the  constituents  of  British  art  —  better 
drawn,  it  may  be,  and  more  carefully  finished,  as  they 
almost  always  are,  yet  contrast  disadvantageous^  with  the 
bold  and  powerful,  though  large  generalizations  of  our  pen- 
cil. Nor  can  there  be  impartial  question,  though  each  be 
separately  defective,  that  more  genius  is  displayed  in  the 
latter  than  in  the  former.  The  English  artist  paints  more 
to  the  mind ;  the  French  and  the  Italian  to  the  eye.  The 
first  looks  abroad  upon  the  universal  harmonies  and  oppo- 
sitions of  nature  ;  the  scond  scrutinizes  and  carefully  ren- 
ders the  filling  up  of  her  aggregated  forms,  and  the  lesser 
concurrences  of  her  general  effects.  Art,  with  us,  repre- 
sents objects  as  they  seem  in  their  relations,  rather  than 
as  they  actually  exist;. among  our  rivals,  it  delineates 
things  as  they  are  in  themselves,  to  the  neglect  of  those 
modifications  by  which  reality  is  diversified  through  pleas- 
ing falsehood,  especially  as  viewed  in  reference  to  a  me- 
dium of  expression,  founded  itself  in  delusion.  In  the  one 
case,  nature  is  seen  and  imitated  as  a  picture ;  in  the 
other,  her  operations  and  forms  are  contemplated  as  mate- 
rials out  of  which  pictures  are  to  be  wrought.  Hence 
English  art  satisfies,  but  deceives ;  the  foreign  style  does 
not  deceive,  but  fails  to  satisfy. 


PAINTING. 


225 


Compared  with  itself,  and  with  the  real  objects  and  es- 
sence of  art,  we  have  already  pointed  out  the  great  defect 
in  the  practice  of  English  art  to  be,  imperfection  in  the 
details.  In  portraiture,  this  has  spread  to  a  ruinous  ex- 
tent ;  and  with  the  most  beautiful  models  in  the  world, 
British  female  portraits,  speaking  in  general,  are  most  de- 
cided failures.  On  this  subject,  nothing  more  remains  to 
be  said  —  we  refer  to  the  exquisite  works  of  Lawrence, 
whose  female  heads  are  at  once  most  striking,  most  lovely, 
and  very  highly  finished  ;  —  we  recommend  a  study  of 
Vandyke's  likenesses  of  the  ladies  of  the  Court  of  Charles, 
now  in  the  Louvre.  Let  the  natural  grace  and  modesty, 
the  delicacy  of  feature  and  transparency  of  tint,  in  these, 
be  compared  with  similar  works  of  the  present  day  and 
practice  — when  it  must  at  once  appear  how  much  4s  lost 
to  art,  and  how  great  injustice  is  done  to  nature.  In  male 
portraits  our  practice  is  better,  but  only  from  the  bolder 
lineaments  of  the  subject.  The  inherent  errors  are  the 
same  —  modelling  with  the  pencil,  rather  than  drawing  — 
immense  masses  of  dark  shade  to  conceal  the  absence  of 
all  that  should  be  present  —  and  forcible  rather  than  nat- 
ural effect.  There  certainly  now  appears,  however,  in 
the  productions  of  the  most  esteemed  living  masters,  the 
progress  of  a  more  scientific  and  more  perfect  style. 

In  the  walk  of  history,  expression  —  that  expression 
which  comes  from  the  natural  outpourings  of  feeling  — 
which  animates  the  canvass  of  the  early  masters  —  and 
which  seems  to  find  its  proper,  spontaneous,  accordant  in- 
strument in  their  pencil,  —  has  yet  been  wanting.  Next, 
our  historical  paintings  are  sadly  defective  in  composition 
—  not  in  the  symmetrical  arrangement  and  grouping  of 
figures,  but  in  the  real  poetry  of  the  art,  in  the  facile,  the 
creative  power  over  the  means  and  materials  of  the  sci- 
ence—  in  the  skill  of  causing  them  to  fall  as  if  by  chance^ 


226 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


and  without  effort  or  visible  design,  into  the  most  harmo- 
nious, most  striking,  and  most  effective  combinations. 

Another  and  a  principal  source  of  inferiority  —  of  ab- 
solute, yet  laborious  error,  has  been  the  most  mistaken 
perceptions  of  ideal  beauty  in  art.  This  subject  it  was 
our  intention  to  have  treated  here  at  some  length.  Our 
limits,  however,  forbid,  while  it  is  of  less  consequence, 
since  the  volume  contains  within  itself  the  leading  pre- 
cepts on  this  topic.  The  sum  of  these  separate  remarks 
is,  that  the  ideal  is  not  beauty  apart  from,  but  wrought  out 
of  nature.  So  far  from  being  the  creation  of  fancy,  it 
lives,  breathes,  and  is  to  be  found  only  in  nature.  In 
this  important  principle,  juster  ideas  are  beginning  rapidly 
to  diffuse  their  influence  over  the  whole  of  our  art,  since 
theory  has  been  laid  aside,  and  nature,  and  the  antique, 
and  real  taste  have  regained  the  ascendency. 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ARCHITECTURE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Architecture  has  been  termed  the  Art  of  Necessity, 
in  contradistinction  to  Sculpture  and  Painting,  which  have 
been  distinguished  as  the  offspring  of  elegance  and  lux- 
ury. To  the  first,  the  remark  of  the  ancient  poet  has 
been  deemed  most  peculiarly  applicable, 

1  Hinc  varioe  venire  artes  —  labor  omnia  vicit 
Improbus,  et  duris  urgens  in  rebus  egestas.' 

If  there  be,  however,  distinction  in  the  first  origin,  it 
ceases  long  before  any  of  these  can  become  the  object  of 
refined  or  useful  inquiry.  The  principles  of  all,  consi- 
dered in  the  rank  of  arts,  originate  in  the  mind,  though  a 
sentiment  of  intelligent  curiosity,  or  a  sense  of  corporeal 
weakness,  and  the  desire  of  protection,  first  give  visible 
action  to  the  latent  germs  of  feeling  and  of  ingenuity. 
Here,  then,  appears  the  accidental,  not  distinctive  charac- 
ter, in  the  originating  impulse,  and  in  the  species  of  imi- 
tative design  thence  resulting,  which  is  afterwards  to  call 


228 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


forth  the  most  refined  evidence  of  human  thought  and 
genius.  Man's  first  care  would  evidently  be  directed  to 
the  discovery  or  construction  of  means  of  shelter  against 
the  inclemencies  of  the  sky  under  which  his  lot  was  cast. 
His  best  affections,  no  less  than  his  natural  wants,  would 
prompt  him  to  this.  But  the  cave  of  the  Troglodyte,  or 
the  hut  of  the  savage,  are  not  more  connected  with  sci- 
ence and  forethought,  than  is  the  den  of  the  tiger,  or  the 
lair  of  the  wolf,  or  the  still  more  artful  structure  of  the 
fowl.  For  no  sooner  is  the  human  creature  thus  estab- 
lished, his  physical  desires  stilled,  not  gratified,  than  begin 
the  ceaseless  aspirings  of  the  spirit  within ;  the  workings 
of  that  wondrous  maze  of  understanding  and  of  feeling, 
of  thought  and  volition,  which  so  mysteriously  bind,  and 
so  irresistibly  direct  him  to  his  higher  and  better  desti- 
nies. Thence,  and  only  thence,  springs,  as  a  bright  and 
pure  emanation,  though  darkened  for  a  while  in  strug- 
gling through  an  imperfect  medium,  every  effort  there- 
after to  instruct  or  to  adorn  a  happier  world. 

In  conformity  with  these  views,  it  has  appeared,  that 
the  first  attempts  at  sculptural  or  pictorial  representation 
were  dedicated  to  piety,  and  to  the  social  affections  of  the 
heart.  In  like  manner,  the  earliest  and  rudest  erections  of 
architecture  now  existing,  as  well  as  the  most  perfect  and 
magnificent,  are  temples  to  the  Deity,  or  memorials  of  the- 
dead.  There  is,  in  these  respects,  indeed,  a  striking 
proof  of  the  existence  of  this  law  of  mind,  — not  of  mere 
instinct,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  self-denial,  in  favor  of 
the  generous  and  the  holy  .in  man's  nature.  Not  only  do 
we  find,  that,  wherever  the  human  foot  has  been  stayed, 
there  is  the  altar,  the  temple,  and  the  tomb  ;  but  we  meet 
these  amid  the  destitution  of  every  approach  to  that  lux- 
ury to  which  the  arts  have  been  ascribed;  and,  finally,  we 
discover  a  vast  disproportion  between  the  efforts  dedicated 


ARCHITECTURE. 


229 


to  these  tributes  of  gratitude  and  affection,  and  those 
directed  to  personal  comfort  or  splendor.  Jacob,  while 
yet  a  wanderer  in  tents,  consecrated,  by  a  pillar,  —  the 
first  monument  on  record,  —  the  spot  where  reposed  his 
beloved  Rachael.  Over  the  whole  of  the  inhabited  globe, 
not  excepting  the  dark  heaths  of  our  native  land,  are  the 
last  resting-places  of  the  dead,  which  must  have  required 
a  union  of  care  and  labour  given  only  to  a  duty,  every- 
where held  inviolably  sacred.  Even  in  the  wilds  of  the 
New  World,  there  are  sepulchres  of  like  laborious  struc- 
ture, to  which,  with  a  steadiness  surer  than  that  of  the 
needle,  the  distant  tribe  tracks  its  way  though  pathless 
woods.  Compare,  again,  the  evidence  of  congregated 
energy,  and  even  science,  in  the  Druidical  temples  only, 
with  the  glimpses  we  possess  of  the  accommodations  of 
common  life.  The  religious  edifices  of  Egypt  even  yet 
fill  the  mind  with  admiration  ;  while  the  probable  monu- 
ments of  their  dead,  faithless,  indeed,  to  their  individual 
trust,  shall  only  sink  amid  the  ruins  of  the  world,  endur- 
ing testimonies  of  the  power  of  religion  and  of  futurity 
over  the  mind  of  man,  and  of  the  vain  attempt  to  convert 
that  power  into  an  instrument  of  selfish  aggrandisement. 
From  all  this,  something  better  may  be  deduced  than  even 
refuting  the  idea,  that  the  sublimest  objects  of  taste  indi- 
cate, in  their  origin,  a  grovelling  necessity,  and,  in  their 
progress,  owe  their  most  graceful  improvements  to  an  idle 
luxury.'  In  this  inseparable  union  of  the  primitive  arts  of 
taste  with  feelings  of  religious  service  and  of  human  affec- 
tion, we  perceive  that  man,  even  in  a  state  of  natural 
darkness,  is  not  the  selfish,  the  irreligious  being,  repre- 
sented by  a  cold  and  material  philosophy,  equally  the  ene- 
my of  taste  as  of  religion. 

Beyond  these  remarks  it  is  not  here  necessary  to  trace 
the  first  origin  of  Architecture.    In  this  art  are  certainly 
20 


230 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


to  be  detected  the  very  links  of  connexion,  joining  the 
knowledge  of  the  descendants  of  Adam  with  that  of  the 
families  of  Noah.  We  learn  from  Scripture,  that  soon 
after  the  Flood,  while  yet  the  remembrance  of  that  catas- 
trophe was  fresh  in  the  mind,  the  building  of  a  city  and  a 
tower  was  commenced.  Such  design  could  not  have 
been  entertained  without  some  previous  model,  or,  at  least, 
assurance  that  it  might  be  accomplished.  Such  model  or 
such  assurance  could  be  derived  only  from  antediluvian 
experience  or  tradition ;  for  it  is  in  the  highest  degree 
improbable  that  either  could  have  originated,  or  been 
brought  to  such  maturity,  in  so  short  a  space  as  intervenes 
between  the  descent  of  Noah  from  the  Ark,  and  the  gi- 
gantic undertaking  of  his  posterity.  Again,  the  materials 
were  artificial ;  and  of  such  perfection,  well-burnt  brick, 
as  we  do  not  find  mankind  to  have  used  in  the  same 
countries  many  centuries  afterwards.  The  construction, 
too,  of  that  mysterious  relic  of  two  worlds,  which  *  floated 
on  the  waters  of  the  abyss,'  is  a  proof  of  high  advance  in 
the  arts  of  the  first.  Subsequently,  all  researches  are  at 
fault.  From  this  state  of  intelligence  and  union,  man- 
kind suddenly  sink  into  the  most  wretched  ignorance,  and 
disperse  in  wild  confusion.  A  cause,  such  as  the  one  in 
Sacred  Writ,  could  alone  produce  this  effect.  Broken 
fragments  and  glimmerings  of  ancient  knowledge,  no 
doubt,  remained  with  the  scattered  tribes  of  the  human 
family.  But  to  trace  usefully  the  extent,  reunion,  and 
improvement  of  these  imperfect  elements,  would  be  here 
a  vain  task.  The  few  valuable  and  only  authentic  me- 
morials of  the  very  early  ages  are  to  be  found  in  Scripture, 
which  ascribes  the  origin  of  monuments  that  may  be 
termed  architectural,  to  ratify  contracts,  —  to  mark  the 
place  of  the  dead,  —  to  indicate  some  remarkable  event — 
to  the  altar  of  stone ;  also,  it  contains  the  descriptions  of 


ARCHITECTURE. 


231 


regular  buildings  of  a  later  period,  which  have  now  passed 
away,  as  the  walled  cities  which  the  Israelites  found  in 
Canaan;  their  own  early  labours,  —  the  Temple  of  Solo- 
mon, the  Palace  of  Lebanon,  the  ' House  of  Dagon/  and 
other  heathen  temples  incidentally  mentioned  in  Scripture, 
to  which  reference  is  made.  All  these  erections  and 
notices  are  confined  to  that  part  of  Asia  which  extends 
from  the  Black  Sea  to  the  mouth  of  the  Euphrates,  and 
from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  extremities  of  Persia. 
Over  the  once  magnificent  architecture  of  the  whole  of 
this  extensive  tract,  including  the  seats  of  the  most  power- 
ful and  ancient  monarchies  of  Asia,  —  the  Assyrian,  Me- 
dian, Babylonian,  and  Persian,  —  except  what  can  be 
gathered  from  scattered  heaps  of  brick,  utter  forgetfulness 
reigns.  Later  information  is  supplied  by  Herodotus  and 
the  Greek  writers ;  but,  except  the  comparatively  recent 
remains  at  Persepolis,  Baalbec,  and  Palmyra,  already  no- 
ticed, nothing  exists  that  can  throw  light  upon  our  subject. 
A  very  different  aspect,  however,  is  presented  in  Egypt 
and  in  India,  where  monuments  of  the  most  remote  anti- 
quity remain,  interesting  in  themselves,  and  as  they  tend 
to  illustrate  the  progress  and  the  revolutions  of  Architec- 
ture in  its  more  modern  forms.  From  an  examination  of 
the  former,  we  shall  be  enabled  to  discover  the  germs  of 
the  more  perfect  Greek  modes,  while,  in  the  combinations 
of  Arabian  with  Indian  forms,  we  seem  to  detect  the 
rudiments  of  that  singular  style,  which,  under  the  various 
appellations  of  Arabic,  Saracenic,  Gothic,  has  extended 
'Jover  the  whole  of  Europe,  and  a  considerable  portion  of 
Asia.  Thus,  one  of  the  first  and  one  of  the  last  depart- 
ments of  the  present  subject,  one  of  its  purest  and  one  of 
its  most  complicated  systems,  originates  probably  in 
countries  now  to  be  considered,  and  whose  monuments 
are  coeval  with  the  first  reunion  of  intelligence  and  society 


232 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


among  men.  But,  before  entering  upon  the  inquiry  which 
is  to  trace  this  connexion  through  the  history  of  the  art,  it 
becomes  necessary  to  explain  certain  common  and  pre- 
liminary principles. 

There  are  three  grand  causes  of  structure  and  form  in 
Architecture,  —  three  leading  principles,  which  not  only 
originated  the  primeval  elements  of  design,  but  which,  to 
a  great  degree,  have  governed  all  the  subsequent  combi- 
nations of  these.  This  influence  also  extends  not  merely 
to  the  essentials  of  stability,  equilibrium,  and  strength, 
but,  as  will  afterwards  appear,  has  suggested  the  system 
of  ornament.  These  master  dispositions,  which  it  thus 
becomes  necessary  to  bear  along  with  the  commencement, 
are,  first,  the  purpose  —  secondly,  the  material  of  Archi- 
tecture—  and  thirdly,  the  climate. 

The  purpose  for  which  any  building  was  erected,  or 
the  uses  which  it  was  contemplated  to  serve,  would  neces- 
sarily determine  the  magnitude,  and  to  a  certain  extent, 
the  form.  Again,  these  considerations  would  suggest  the 
most  appropriate  means  of  accomplishing  the  requisite 
ends,  which,  once  accomplished,  would  constitute  perma- 
nent distinctions. 

The  materials,  again,  employed  in  architecture,  have 
influenced  most  decidedly  its  forms  and  character.  This 
has  been  the  case,  not  only  in  the  peculiar  styles  which 
have  separately  been  adopted  in  different  countries,  but  in 
the  general  and  essential  principles  of  the  science.  The 
materials  of  which  buildings,  in  all  ages,  have  been  chiefly 
constructed,  are  stone,  wood,  and  factitious  substances,  a\e 
tiles  and  bricks.  The  first  adopting  of  these  materials, 
and,  of  course,  the  style  of  building,  must  have  been  re- 
commended by  the  resources  of  the  country.  The  law, 
however,  which  determines  their  arrangement  is  universal, 
arising  from  exigencies  over  which  taste,  and  even  inge- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


233 


nuity,  exert  limited  control.  This  evidently  arises  from 
the  nature  of  the  question  ;  for,  since  a  mass  of  stone  is 
heavier  in  all,  and  weaker  in  most  positions,  than  timber 
of  equal  dimensions,  the  whole  congeries  of  supporting 
and  supported  members  —  that  is,  the  whole  system  of 
architecture  will  be  affected  as  the  one  or  the  other  mate- 
rial is  employed.  Thus,  in  wooden  erections,  the  sup- 
porting members  may  be  much  fewer  and  less  massive 
than  in  structures  of  stone ;  because,  in  the  former,  the 
horizontal  or  supported  parts  are  both  lighter,  and  will 
carry  an  incumbent  weight  —  as  a  roof — over  a  much 
wider  interval  than  in  the  latter.  It  is  apparent,  also, 
even  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  stability,  that,  in  con- 
structing edifices  of  stone,  whether  of  the  perpendicular 
or  horizontal  members,  the  dimensions  would  be  greater 
than  in  elevations  of  wood  ;  and  in  the  case  of  columnar 
structures,  that  the  altitude,  in  proportion  to  the  diameter, 
would  be  far  less  in  stone  than  in  timber  supports.  Hence, 
the- two  grand  characteristics  of  a  massive  or  solemn,  and 
a  light  or  airy,  architecture.  Hence,  also,  when  genius 
and  taste  had  begun  to  consider  the  arrangements  of  ne- 
cessity and  use  in  the  relations  of  effect  and  beauty,  new 
combinations  would  be  attempted,  which  approached  to 
one  or  other  of  these  leading  divisions.  It  must,  however, 
be  obvious,  that  the  field  of  these  experiments  is  narrowed 
by  the  very  principles  on  which  they  would  be  first  sug- 
gested. In  the  art  we  are  now  considering,  the  human 
agent  has  less  power  over  the  inertness  of  matter  than  in 
any  other.  Imagination  comes  in  contact  with  reality  at 
every  step,  and  the  laws  of  nature  impress  the  boundaries 
of  that  reality,  not  at  the  risk  of  absurdity,  but  of  very 
being.  Beauty  becomes  here,  not  the  creation  of  fantasy 
—  a  something  pleasing  only  as  it  reflects  our  associations, 
or  harmonizes  with  our  feelings ;  but  is  more  especially 
20* 


234 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  creation  of  science  —  the  object  of  demonstrative  wis- 
dom. Hence,  perfect  architectural  beauty  is  the  most 
sublime  and  the  most  rational  of  the  objects  of  taste ;  be- 
cause, while  the  susceptibilities  of  mind  are  awakened, 
the  powers  of  judgment  are  gratified,  by  the  certainty  with 
which  the  sources  of  pleasure  can  be  traced.  We  feel 
the  arrangement  to  be  beautiful ;  we  know  that  it  is  ne- 
cessary. Hence,  also,  the  perfect  modes  —  the  true  com- 
binations of  the  art  —  are  few ;  the  error  in  departing 
from  them  great. 

These  refined  perceptions  do  not  indeed  pertain  to  the 
period  now  contemplated ;  but  the  facility  with  which 
they  can  be  connected  with  the  first  practice  of  the  art, 
evinces  how  deeply  rooted  are  the  real  and  substantial 
precepts  of  architectural  design.  The  leading  views,  also, 
in  regard  to  the  influence  ,of  material  upon  form,  propor- 
tion, and  distribution  of  parts,  are  supported  by  early  his- 
tory. 

In  Egypt,  a  country  destitute  of  wood,  the  most  ancient 
erections  were  in  imitation  of  the  natural  caves  in  which 
the  rude  inhabitants  had  sought  a  wretched  shelter.  In 
a  later  age,  yet  one  which  far  transcends  the  authentic 
researches  of  history,  were  reared  those  mysterious  edi- 
fices, still  standing  as  landmarks  between  known  and  un- 
known time.  In  the  ponderous  members  of  these  solemn 
piles,  the  narrowness  of  the  intervals,  the  crowded  pillars, 
the  massive  base,  and  the  lessened  perpendicular,  is  found 
every  principle  previously  assumed  as  characteristic  of 
that  architecture,  which  would  be  governed  by  necessity 
before  the  sensation  of  beauty  had  been  felt,  or  at  least 
methodized.  Here,  also,  appears  the  first  species  of  archi- 
tectural design.  Again,  in  that  region  of  Asia,  already 
noticed  as  the  scene  of  the  earliest  recorded  labours  of  the 
art,  wood  was  abundant.    From  the  descriptions  of  Holy 


ARCHITECTURE. 


235 


Writ  we  accordingly  find,  that  this  material  was  much 
employed  even  in  their  most  sacred  and  important  build- 
ings. Thus,  though  few  details  capable  of  giving  any 
just  architectural  notions,  are  preserved  of  Solomon's 
Temple,  it  is  yet  plain,  that  cedar  wood  was  the  chief 
material  both  for  roofs  and  columns,  that  is,  both  for  sup- 
ported and  supporting  members.  Hence,  the  temples  of 
Palestine,  and  of  Syria  generally,  by  which  we  understand 
the  Asia  of  the  Old  Testament,  already  described,  were 
more  spacious,  but  less  durable  than  those  of  Egypt,  and 
with  fewer  upright  supports.  Of  this,  a  singularly  striking 
proof  occurs  in  the  catastrophe  of  the  House  of  Dagon, 
when  Samson,  by  overturning  only  two  columns,  brought 
down  the  whole  fabric. 

As  with  the  force  of  winds  and  waters  pent, 
When  mountains  tremble,  those  two  massy  pillars, 
With  horrible  convulsion,  to  and  fro 
He  tugg'd,  he  shook,  till  down  they  came,  and  drew 
The  whole  roof  after  them,  with  bursts  of  thunder  : 
The  vulgar  only  'scaped  who  stood  without. 

In  an  edifice  constructed  on  the  plan  of  the  Egyptian 
Temple,  where  pillar  stands  crowded  behind  pillar,  in 
range  beyond  range,  to  give  support  to  the  ponderous 
architrave  and  marble  roof,  the  overturning  of  two  of  these 
columns  would  produce  but  a  very  partial  disintegration. 
The  very  circumstance,  also,  of  there  being  no  remains 
in  a  country  where  once  stood  the  most  renowned  cities, 
proves  the  perishable  nature  of  the  substance  chiefly  em- 
ployed. There  is  evidence,  also,  that  stone  and  wood 
were  often,  perhaps  usually,  combined — the  first  as  a 
columnar  or  pier-like  support,  for  horizontal  beams  of  the 
latter.  This  plainly  appears  to  have  been  the  case  in 
the  oldest  ruin  existing  in  this  part  of  the  world,  namely, 
Persepolis,  where  the  marble  columns  evidently  bear 


236 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


marks  of  having  been  connected  by  cross  beams  of  wood, 
and  to  have  supported  a  roof  of  the  same  light  structure. 
Hence  the  easy  conflagration  of  this  abode  of  the  Persian 
kings,  in  a  debauch  of  Alexander.  The  columns  are 
loftier,  further  apart,  and  fewer  in  number,  than  in  Egypt. 
Had  not  the  illustration  of  the  general  subject  been  of 
more  importance  in  the  establishment  of  this  point,  refer- 
ence might  at  once  have  been  made  to  the  early  temples 
of  Greece,  which,  even  to  the  age  of  Xerxes,  were  struc- 
tures of  wood ;  and  to  the  well-known  difference  of  style 
between  them  and  those  of  Egypt.  Thus  we  have  the 
second  species  of  architectural  design  ;  and  again  find  the 
facts,  recounted  by  history,  according  with  deductions 
from  a  priori  consideration  of  the  nature,  objects,  and 
origin,  of  the  art  itself.  It  may  afford  illustration  of  the 
certainty  with  which  the  principles  of  reasoning  operate, 
while  the  fact  is  singular,  that  ancient  writers  describe 
the  huts  of  the  nomadic  tribes  on  their  dispersion,  or,  at 
least,  the  earliest  recorded  residences  of  mankind,  as  com- 
posed of  poles,  formed  of  the  branches  of  trees,  fixed  in 
the  earth,  enclosing  a  circular  space,  and  meeting  at  top, 
the  sloping  sides  being  covered  with  leaves,  reeds,  or  skins. 
This  is  exactly  the  wigwam  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitant 
of  America.  So  much  is  man  the  creature  of  the  same 
instincts,  under  similar  circumstances. 

Climate  will  necessarily  operate  a  considerable  effect 
upon  the  external  arrangements  of  architecture.  Accord- 
ing to  the  latitude  of  the  situation,  buildings  will  be  con- 
trived to  admit  or  exclude  the  sun,  to  give  shelter  from 
biting  cold,  or  to  secure  against  scorching  heat,  or  mere- 
ly to  yield  shade,  without  immediate  reference  to  either 
extreme.  All  these,  however,  will  not  affect  the  internal 
harmonies  or  proprieties  of  the  constituent  parts.  Cli- 
mate, therefore,  is  only  modifying,  not  creative,  as  the 


ARCHITECTURE. 


237 


two  preceding  causes ;  it  may  suggest  composition,  but 
hardly  design ;  for,  with  the  exception  of  the  pointed  or 
flat  roof,  according  to  the  humidity  or  dryness  of  the  at- 
mosphere, consequently  the  angular  pediment  surmount- 
ing the  horizontal  lines  of  the  entablature,  little  of  real 
form  or  order  has  been  added,  or  materially  influenced, 
by  climate.  This  cause,  however,  has  given  rise  to,  or 
permitted,  many  picturesque  combinations. 

Purpose,  besides  the  constitutional  effects  upon  the 
science  already  described,  necessarily  occasions  the  va- 
rious classes  under  which  the  labours  of  the  architect 
may  be  arranged.  Architecture,  by  this  principle,  is 
separated  intd  two  grand  divisions  —  Civil  and  Military. 
The  former  of  these,  from  its  greater  variety  of  purpose, 
is  further  subdivided  into  subordinate  heads,  namely, 
placing  each  in  the  order  of  its  probable  antiquity,  Sacred, 
Monumental,  Municipal,  and  Domestic.  These  modifi- 
cations of  purpose  do  not,  indeed,  give  novel  principles, 
nor  do  they  affect  any  of  the  conclusions  already  explain- 
ed; they  have  only,  though  strongly,  influenced  the  prac- 
tice of  the  art.  In  presenting 'an  abstract  of  the  history 
of  the  science  of  Architecture,  then,  it  is  not  requisite  to 
dwell  particularly  upon  these  divisions,  nor  to  be  guided 
by  them  in  the  future  arrangement  of  our  matter.  But 
as  we  may  occasionally  revert,  by  a  passing  word,  to  the 
obvious  distinctions  which  are  thus  perceived,  a  short  ex- 
planation, especially  as  several  scattered  particulars  of 
very  early  times  can  thus  be  properly  assembled,  will 
here  be  useful. 

Sacred  Architecture  is  a  term  sufficiently  expressive  of 
its  own  import.  It  was  the  primitive  effort  of  the  present 
race  of  man ;  the  first  impress  of  his  existence  left  upon 
the  soil,  yet  moist  from  the  waters  of  the  deluge,  was  the 
erection  of  an  altar  ;  and  the  noblest  evidence  of  his  most 
accomplished  skill  has  been  a  temple  ; 


238 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


 '  His  greatest  ornament  of  fame, 

And  strength,  and  art.' 

From  the  '  altar  builded  by  Noah,'  how  interesting  to 
follow  out  the  effects  of  one  uncontrollable,  but,  when  un- 
guided,  erring  sentiment  in  the  steadfast  piles  —  *  works 
of  Memphian  kings,'  in  the  glorious  proportions  of  Greece, 
where 

 '  Doric  pillars, 

Cornice,  and  frieze,  with  bossy  sculptures  graven,' 

rear  their  graceful  height,  looking  tranquil  magnificence  — 
down  even  to  the  rude  circle  of  grey  stones  on  the  bleak 
heath !  For  this  inquiry,  visible  materials  are  indeed 
wanting ;  but  does  not  the  Word  of  Truth  supply  the 
general  inference,  '  The  imaginations  of  man's  heart  are 
wicked  —  he  has  sought  out  many  inventions  —  but  I 
will  be  honored  among  the  generations  of  men  '? ' 

Incidental  allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the  mar- 
vellous fabric  reared  by  Solomon,  which,  if  not  in  grace, 
in  splendor  of  decoration  appears  to  have  exceeded  all 
the  erections  of  the  early  ages,  and  is  the  first  of  which 
written  notice  remains.  The  descriptions  of  this  building 
enable  us  to  form  a  reunion  of  the  arts  of  Sculpture  and 
Architecture  at  the  commencement  of  the  tenth  century 
before  Christ.  This  date,  however,  we  consider  to  be  at 
least  six  hundred  years  later  than  the  era  of  any  Egyptian 
monument,  not  of  brick,  now  extant  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  the  Nile.  In  considering,  also,  the  countries 
whence  Solomon  obtained  workmen,  will  be  remarked  the 
confirmation  of  the  preceding  observations  on  the  origin- 
ating causes  of  styles  in  architecture.  The  hewers  of 
stone,  we  are  informed,  were  from  Egypt;  and  the  solid 
substructions  of  the  Jewish  temple,  the  massive  propor- 
tions of  the  separate  parts  —  resemblances  still  more  strik- 
ing in  Josephus'  account  of  the  second  edifice  —  show 


ARCHITECTURE. 


239 


exactly  the  same  principles  and  practice  as  can  to  this  day 
be  traced  in  the  Egyptian  structures.  From  Phoenicia, 
again,  a  country  abounding  in  timber,  were  brought  the 
most  skilful  '  hewers  of  wood,'  that  is,  workmen  instructed 
in  the  arts  of  the  joiner  and  carpenter,  and  also,  as  may 
be  inferred  from  various  descriptions  of  the  ornamental 
appendages,  of  the  carver  or  sculptor  in  wood,  —  'and  the 
cedar  of  the  house  within  was  carved  with  open  knops  and 
flowers ; '  again,  and  '  he  made  two  cherubims  of  olive 
tree.'  These  sculptures,  however,  might  have  been  finish- 
ed, and,  from  the  state  of  art  in  that  country,  most  proba- 
bly were  the  work  of  artists  from  Egypt.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  '  House,'  as  the  magnificent  pile  is  em- 
phatically termed,  was  of  a  quadrangular  outline,  erected 
upon  a  solid  platform  of  stone,  bearing  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  the  ancient  temples  still  extant.  Indeed,  there 
is,  in  this  respect,  a  most  striking  analogy  between  the 
dimensions  as  given  in  Scripture,  and  those  of  the  oldest 
Greek  temples,  especially  of  iEgina  and  Poestum.  This 
latter  we  have  examined,  and,  agreeing  to  the  fidelity  of 
the  grounds  upon  which  Wilkins  has  founded  his  reason- 
ings, in  the  admirable  dissertation  on  this  subject  in  his 
preface  to  the  '  Antiquities  of  Magna  Grecia,'  we  cannot 
coincide  in  the  final  conclusion,  that  the  Greeks  borrowed 
the  Doric  order  from  this  ancient  temple  of  Solomon. 
Reference  to  this  subject  is  hereafter  to  be  made.  In  the 
meantime,  while  facts  are  fresh  in  the  mind,  it  must  be 
obvious  to  the  reader,  that,  since  the  shell  or  carcass  of 
the  temple  of  Jerusalem  was  of  stone,  and  built  by  Egyp- 
tian workmen,  alone  skilled  in  that  material,  the  general 
arrangements  would  resemble  those  of  the  Egyptian  tem- 
ples. Consequently,  the  Greeks  and  the  Jews,  deriving  1 
their  leading  orders  from  one  source,  would  naturally, 
though  unconsciously,  imitate  each  other.    Again,  since 


240 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


wood  was  employed  in  every  part  of  the  roof  and  interior 
by  Solomon,  on  the  principles  already  explained,  the  rela- 
tive proportions  of  the  parts,  and  the  number  of  the  sup- 
ports, would  necessarily  be  different,  compared  with  the 
similar  members  of  Egyptian  art.  But  the  Greeks  also  in 
part  followed  the  laws  of  wooden  structure ;  consequently 
both  differing,  on  similar  principles,  from  the  original 
model,  would  yet  preserve  mutual  resemblance  in  that 
very  difference. 

,  Monumental  Architecture,  deriving  its  origin  from  allied 
feelings  and  associations,  would  be  coeval,  or  nearly  so, 
with  the  origin  of  sacred.  Indeed,  it  is  not  possible  al- 
ways to  separate  the  two  distinct  purposes.  Monuments 
have  two  objects  in  view  —  to  honor  the  memory  of  the 
dead,  and  to  preserve  remembrance  of  the  transactions  of 
the  living  ;  both  of  which  are  recorded  in  Scripture.  The 
material  of  a  monumental  erection,  and  consequently  its 
design,  will  always,  in  early  times,  be  determined  by  the 
circumstances  of  the  vicinity,  with  the  sole  exception  of 
wood.  Hence  pillars  of  stone,  and  mounds  of  earth,  are 
the  primitive  records  of  both  life  and  death.  In  a  more 
advanced  age,  when  stone  could  not  be  readily  procured, 
brick  would  be  employed.  The  magnitude  and  beauty 
will  accord  with  the  skill  of  the  times.  Hence  arise  sour- 
ces of  determining  the  relative  antiquity  of  monuments, 
and  the  circumstances  of  the  age.  Under  almost  every 
privation  of  means,  and  in  all  countries,  '  heaped  earth ' 
would  present  a  durable  and  an  accessible  material. 
Hence  the  universality  of  this  species  of  monument 
throughout  the  globe.  This  primitive  accumulation  of 
efforts  —  for  an  earthen  mound  can  be  considered  as  noth- 
ing more  —  seems  to  have  given  origin  to  the  most  gigan- 
tic labours  of  human  architecture.  The  pyramids  of 
Egypt,  and  the  cognate  structures  of  India,  seem  to  be 


ARCHITECTURE. 


241 


imitations,  wonderful  indeed,  of  the  more  ancient  barrow. 
They  are,  in  fact,  but  mounds  of  higher  art  and  more 
valuable  materials.  Their  intermediate  forms,  indeed,  may 
be  traced  in  both  countries,  at  least  in  the  curve  which 
would  bound  the  perpendicular  section  of  the  mound.  In 
India,  however,  pyramids  seem,  from  the  extent  of  the  in- 
terior, and  the  facility  of  access,  to  have  been  chiefly  in- 
tended for  places  of  crowded  resort  —  most  likely,  there- 
fore, temples.  In  Egypt,  again,  the  single  chamber,  the 
imperviously  closed  entrance,  appear  to  indicate  with  pre- 
cision their  original  destination  to  have  been  sepulchral. 
It  has  already  been  remarked,  that  the  Arts  are  themselves 
their  own  best  interpreters,  and  that  little  faith  is  to  be 
placed  in  the  remote  analogies  of  philology,  which  have 
too  frequently  been  admitted  in  evidence  beyond  their 
value  ;  but  it  has  often  been  matter  of  surprise,  that  two 
words,  belonging  to  the  most  ancient  forms  of  the  Syriac 
language,  should  have  been  overlooked  in  the  numerous 
derivations  of  the  word  pyramid.  Peer  and  Maid,  as  the 
words  in  question  may  be  rendered  in  our  characters, 
united,  as  in  Eastern  languages,  forming  compound  ex- 
pressions, would  give  almost  identical  sound,  and  in  signifi- 
cation, '  the  hill  or  mountain  of  the  dead,'  would  be  near- 
er the  purpose  and  appearance  than  any  derivation  with 
which  we  are  acquainted. 

Under  the  head  of  Municipal  Architecture  is  included 
every  application  of  the  science  to  those  purposes  of  social 
life  not  included  under  the  former  heads,  such  as  public 
buildings  of  all  descriptions  connected  with  the  civil  busi- 
ness of  life,  up.  to  the  arrangements  of  entire  cities.  Men, 
therefore,  must  have  been  assembled  together  for  some 
time,  they  must  have  agreed  upon  certain  compacts  and 
regulations  of  society,  before  this  branch  could  have  made 
any  progress  in  the  world.  Yet  we  find,  that  not  more 
21 


242 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


than  a  century  after  the  flood,  a  city  was  begun,  a  fact  al- 
ready attempted  to  be  explained  ;  and  to  what  was  then 
said  it  may  be  farther  added,  that  the  Tower  of  Babel, 
which  belonged  to  this  city,  was  clearly  monumental  —  it 
was  1  to  make  a  name.'  Although  no  vestiges  of  the  an- 
cient cities  of  Asia  or  of  Egypt  remain,  sufficient  from 
inspection  to  corroborate  the  descriptions  of  history,  these 
lead  to  the  belief,  that,  in  many  instances,  the  plan  and 
architecture  were  both  regular  and  grand.  The  reader, 
however,  ought  to  be  on  his  guard  against  the  amplifica- 
tions of  Scriptural  and  Homeric  accounts  contained  in 
later  authorities,  in  as  far  as  the  former  describe  relatively, 
according  to  the  state  of  things  in  their  own  age  and  ex- 
perience ;  whereas  the  latter,  too  often  forgetting  this  dis- 
tinction, convey  the  impression,  that  grandeur  and  mag- 
nificence were  absolute.  Yet,  even  with  this  abatement, 
there  remains  sufficient  ground  of  admiration  in  the  ideas 
excited  of  Thebes,  Babylon,  Nineveh,  or  Memphis. 
There  appears,  in  this  respect,  a  very  striking  difference 
between  the  cities  of  the  second  age,  after  the  arts  had 
migrated  into  Europe.  Many  circumstances  tend  to 
confirm  the  opinion,  that,  even  in  Greece,  Municipal 
Architecture  in  general  was  not  much  studied,  and  that 
there  were  few,  if  any,  really  fine  cities  among  the  nu- 
merous capitals  of  that  country.  Their  magnificence 
was  concentrated  in  particular  spots  —  in  their  agorai,  or 
squares.  Their  temples  usually  stood  apart ;  so  that, 
like  the  cities  of  modern  Italy,  whatever  might  be  the 
beauty,  or  the  romantic  effect  of  their  distant  appearance, 
internally,  they  often  appear  to  have  been  little  more 
than  an  irregular  assemblage  of  narrow  winding  streets. 
Such  we  know  Athens  to  have  been  to  a  very  late  period. 
Sparta  was  long  an  unwalled  village.  Argos,  Thebes, 
or  Corinth,  cannot  be  placed  in  comparison  with  the 


ARCHITECTURE. 


243 


before  mentioned  capitals  of  Asia  and  Egypt.  Even 
Rome,  to  the  age  of  Nero,  was  crowded,  unwholesome, 
and  mean,  over  a  great  portion  of  its  less  important  sur- 
face. In  one  respect,  however,  it  seems  to  have  differed 
greatly  from  every  other  ancient  city  of  which  we  read, 
namely,  in  the  great  elevation  of  the  houses ;  in  almost 
every  other  instance  we  are  led  to  an  opposite  inference, 
which  is  further  corroborated  by  the  present  appearance 
of  Pompeii. 

With  the  Domestic  Architecture  of  the  primitive  ages, 
to  which  our  accounts  have  hitherto  been  confined,  the 
acquaintance  to  be  obtained  is  exceedingly  limited.  In 
the  description  of  Solomon's  Palace,  and  in  various  pas- 
sages of  Homer,  considerable  details  are  given  of  the 
palatial  dwellings ;  but  how  the  greater  part  of  mankind 
were  lodged,  few  means  of  determining  remain.  Protec- 
tion against  the  vicissitudes  of  climate  would  first  employ 
the  instinctive  ingenuity  of  man ;  next,  conveniency 
would  be  consulted,  by  enlarging  the  dimensions  of  his 
abode.  Both  these  objects  might  be  obtained,  while  yet 
the  original  circular  area  was  retained.  As  some  ideas, 
however,  of  the  comforts  and  decencies  of  life  prevailed, 
seclusion  of  the  different  orders  and  sexes  in  the  members 
of  the  family  would  be  sought ;  and  hence  division  of  one 
common  apartment  into  separate  portions.  But  as  cir- 
cular space  admits  of  division  very  imperfectly,  and  with 
loss,  this  new  necessity  would  introduce,  or  at  least  ren- 
der permanent,  the  rectangular  shape  of  the  domestic 
abode. 

Military  Architecture  is  but  little  connected  with  the 
history  of  the  science,  from  the  peculiar  nature  of  those 
principles  of  construction  which  it  recognises.  Here 
design  is  regulated  by  circumstances  external  to  the  art, 
and  which,  therefore,  though  enriched  by  novel  combi- 


244 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


nations  in  its  later  and  more  impure  modes,  received 
originally  no  component  elements,  from  a  branch  which 
has  universally  and  largely  engrossed  the  attention  of 
mankind.  The  application  of  architecture  to  the  pur- 
poses of  defence,  would  not  take  place  till  a  comparatively 
later  period  in  the  history  of  the  species.  Men  would 
previously  have  acquired  ideas  of  the  right  and  value  of 
property,  and  divided  into  separate  communities  by  poli- 
tical or  moral  distinctions.  Mere  defence  would  be  the 
first  object  in  military  erections ;  a  wall,  a  rampart,  or 
barrier,  of  altitude  and  strength  sufficient  to  resist,  or 
rather  to  disappoint,  any  sudden  attack,  would  be  all  for 
some  time  required ;  and,  subsequently,  with  facility  of 
access  to  the  summit,  for  the  purpose  of  hurling  stones 
from  vantage  ground  upon  the  assailants,  these  defences 
for  long  would  be  complete,  by  the  obvious  addition  of  a 
ditch.  As  the  arts  of  violence,  and  especially  as  missile 
warfare  improved,  experience  would  point  out  the  impos- 
sibility of  defending,  even  with  a  ditch,  a  long  unbroken 
line  of  wall,  consistently  with  the  safety  of  the  defenders, 
who,  in  the  attempt  to  overlook  the  whole,  would  neces- 
sarily be  exposed  to  the  hostile  weapons.  To  obviate 
this  defect,  and  that  the  whole  line  might  be  seen,  and  the 
approaches  commanded  from  points  within  itself,  towers 
projecting  beyond  the  face  of  the  wall  were  constructed, 
thus  finishing  the  whole  of  the  science  of  ancient  fortifi- 
cation. Cities,  with  towers  and  battlements  on  this  plan, 
were  found  by  the  Jews  in  Syria,  where  they  had  existed 
for  ten  centuries  before.  The  same  was  the  system  of 
the  Greeks  and  Romans;  and  all  the  varieties  of  feudal 
defences  are  but  applications,  and  even  the  inventions 
now  in  use  are  but  modifications  of  the  primeval  fortress, 
which,  in  adaptations  to  the  exigencies  and  science  of  the 
time,  have  also  removed  from  it  all  picturesque  effect  and 


ARCHITECTURE. 


245 


all  scenic  grandeur,  such  as  the  fortalice  of  old,  even  in 
its  '  ruins  grey,5  yet  produces. 

Such  is  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  origin  and  principles  of 
architectural  design ;  and  such  the  extent  to  which,  in 
practice,  history  informs  us  they  had  been  carried  in  the 
ancient  world.  The  details,  necessarily  very  imperfect, 
now  given,  belong  to  what  may  be  termed  the  first  age  in 
the  history  of  the  art.  The  second  era  commences  with 
the  earliest  appearances  of  regular  architectural  science 
in  Europe,  marked  by  the  erection  of  temples  in  Greece, 
soon  after,  or  nearly  contemporary  with,  the  labours  of 
Solomon,  which  were  commenced  1015  B.  C. 

Before  entering  upon  European  art,  it  will  be  useful, 
as  formerly  hinted,  briefly  to  examine  the  monuments 
still  existing  in  Egypt  of  the  architecture  of  the  first  age, 
—  the  probable  sources  of  those  primitive  modes,  which, 
adopted  in  rudeness,  by  Grecian  taste  refined  and  matured, 
have  become  immutable.  In  addition  to  what  has  already 
been  stated  in  the  first  article,  and  in  reference  to  the 
present  subject,  it  will  be  necessary  merely  to  explain  the 
general  character  and  principles  of  these  aboriginal  struc- 
tures, with  the  view  of  ascertaining  whether,  and  to  what 
extent,  these  have  influenced  the  subsequent  and  more 
perfect  science  of  the  Grecian  architect. 

Of  ancient  Egypt,  the  government  was  not  only  pecu- 
liar, but  contemplated  peculiar  results  —  pursued,  too, 
with  undeviating  purpose,  through  an  unknown  succes- 
sion of  ages.  Hence  the  enduring  greatness  of  the  works 
it  has  left ;  but  as  the  ends  were,  from  the  commence- 
ment, so  fixed  as  to  forbid  progressive  means,  hence  the 
uniformity  of  imperfect  character  in  these  labours,  exhi- 
biting much  of  the  elements,  but  none  of  the  perfections 
of  taste. 

21* 


246 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


The  eternal  durability  to  which,  in  all  things,  the  hie- 
rarchy aspired,  pointed  out  a  style  of  architecture,  espe- 
cially in  their  sacred  buildings,  retaining,  as  most  sub- 
stantial, only  the  simplest  forms  and  the  largest  masses. 
Hence,  in  these  mysterious  structures,  whatever  deficiency 
may  be  perceived  in  beauty  or  grace,  is  compensated  by 
vastness  and  simplicity,  the  most  powerful  elements  of  the 
grand.  In  beholding  these  mighty  fabrics,  then,  even 
laying  aside  the  associations  of  unnumbered  centuries,  if 
neither  the  most  refined  nor  agreeable  emotions  be  expe- 
rienced, the  imagination  is  exalted  to  a  high  pitch  of 
awe,  astonishment,  and  admiration.  Long  withdrawing 
lines,  unbroken  surfaces,  simple  contours,  immense  blocks, 
even  while  the  individual  forms  are  destitute  of  propor- 
tion, harmony,  or  grace,  will  ever  produce  a  solemn  sub- 
limity of  effect. 

But  it  now  occurs  to  inquire,  before  the  merit  of  ra- 
tional design  can  be  granted,  or  these  architectonic  la- 
bours admitted  among  the  works  of  genius,  —  Do  these 
lofty  effects  arise  from  principle,  or  are  they  purely  acci- 
dental? Are  they  the  meditated  results  of  science  and 
taste,  or  are  they  merely  inevitable  consequences  of  the 
large  and  enduring  style  which  the  political  system  recom- 
mended ? 

Upon  the  nature  of  the  reply  to  these  questions  will,  in 
a  great  measure,  depend  the  rank  of  the  Greeks,  as  origi- 
nal inventors  and  refiners  of  taste  in  architecture.  Now, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  these,  to  use  Strabo's  ex- 
pression, '  barbarous  monuments  of  painful  labour,5  the 
sublimity  and  imposing  solemnity  of  the  general  effect  is 
incidental,  not  inherent.  It  is  the  grandeur  of  mass,  not 
of  proportion.  The  imagination  is  subdued,  indeed,  by 
vastness,  but  neither  is  the  fancy  delighted  by  tracing  a 
well  preserved  resemblance  to  any  acknowledged  proto- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


247 


type,  nor  is  the  judgment  instructed  by  the  contemplation 
of  a  harmony  consistent  in  itself,  though  deriving  its  ele- 
ments from  no  immediate  source.  We  discover  neither 
imitation  nor  creative  taste,  for  imitation  is  ever  destroyed 
by  some  monstrous  incongruity,  and  originality  becomes 
aimless  through  interminable  variety  of  accessories.  As 
a  science,  then,  beyond  the  rules  necessarily  imposed  by 
the  leading  intention  of  durability,  we  detect  nothing  in 
the  architecture  of  Egypt  like  the  universal  harmony 
given  to  it  in  Greece.  The  same  is  the  character  of  In- 
dian art,  with  still  more  of  incongruous  union ;  for  here 
the  massive  simplicity  of  the  original,  or  at  least  earliest 
source,  for  so  we  have  already  shown  Egyptian  art  to  be, 
is  broken  down  and  loaded  with  frittered  and  pretending 
ornament.  Syria,  or  the  vast  district  lying  between,  fur- 
nishes nothing  beyond  conjecture,  or  rather  in  the  only 
instance,  that  of  Solomon's  labours,  where  we  attain 
some  information  on  which  implicit  reliance  may  be 
placed  —  clear  manifestations  are  discovered  of  mixed 
art,  in  which  that  of  Egypt  predominated.  Thus,  in  the 
whole  of  the  ancient  world,  about  a  thousand  years  before 
our  present  era,  and  when  the  Greeks  first,  or  soon  after, 
began  to  erect  temples,  there  existed  no  science  complete 
in  itself,  or  whose  principles  even  had  been  elicited  from 
the  chaotic  mass  of  materials,  by  which  they  could  have 
been  directed,  in  their  own  matchless  monuments.  What- 
ever of  grace  and  of  beauty  — of  dignity  and  truth  —  of 
sublimity  and  harmonious  proportion,  —  whatever  of  ar- 
chitectonic excellence,  grounded  on  the  most  profound 
principles  of  taste,  and  established  on  the  sure  basis  of 
geometry,  —  whatever  of  all  this  can  be  discovered  in  the 
building  of  Greece,  she  owes  it  to  the  superiority  of  native 
genius.  Yet  the  obligations  to  Egyptian  predecessors 
were  neither  few  nor  unimportant.     The  rectangular 


248 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


area,  in  which  the  breadth  should  bear  a  proportion  less 
to  the  length,  a  shape  of  all  others  best  adapted  to  beau- 
ty and  convenience,  was  introduced.  A  still  less  obvious 
source  of  almost  every  higher  beauty  in  the  science  — 
columnar  architecture  —  was  there  practised  so  early, 
that  whether  it  originated  in  the  country,  or  was  intro- 
duced, is  unknown.  Even  the  system  of  ornament  may, 
in  its  rise  at  least,  be  traced  in  these  primeval  remains ; 
for  not  a  single  detail  afterwards  introduced  may  not,  in  a 
rudimental,  often  nearly  perfected  state,  be  remarked  ; 
especially  the  beautiful  idea  of  floral  ornaments.  Lastly, 
in  the  works  of  Egyptian  art,  very  perfect  examples  of 
mechanical  practice,  both  in  dressing  and  laying  the  ma- 
terials, might  be  observed  in  almost  every  instance.  All 
these  elements,  however,  the  last  excepted,  jarring  among 
themselves,  whether  as  wholes  or  parts,  were  to  be  select- 
ed, arranged,  methodized,  and  animated  by  grace,  har- 
mony, nobleness,  —  in  short,  the  science  of  architecture 
was  yet  to  be  created. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

In  treating  briefly  of  the  architecture  of  Greece,  though 
there  still  exist  remains  of  astonishing  magnitude,  and  of 
the  greatest  beauty  yet  attained  among  men,  there  are, 
notwithstanding,  manifold  difficulties  in  the  attempt  to 
treat  historically  of  its  origin  and  progress.  Whatever 
information  is  to  be  derived  from  native  writers  composes 
merely  incidental  notices,  mixed  up  with  those  wild  tra- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


249 


ditions  and  dreamy  lore,  in  which  the  Greeks,  from  igno- 
rance or  vanity,  or  both,  seem  to  have  delighted  in  wrap- 
ping up  the  sources  of  their  knowledge.  It  is  almost  cer- 
tain, indeed,  that  they  never  possessed,  on  the  present 
subject,  any  writings  beyond  the  mere  technical  treatises 
which  must  have  been  in  the  hands  of  architects.  The 
compilation  of  Vitruvius  might  be  supposed  amply  to  sup- 
ply this  defect  of  more  original  materials  ;  but,  as  respects 
the  history  of  the  art,  this  is  not  the  case.  His  accounts 
of  the  state  of  architecture  in  his  own  time,  that  of  Au- 
gustus, and  the  various  scientific  details  into  which  he 
enters,  are  excellent ;  they  show  him  to  have  probably 
possessed  all  the  requisites  which  he  enumerates  as  neces- 
sary to  form  an  accomplished  architect,  high  as  he  rates 
the  profession.  The  historical  department  of  his  work, 
again,  is  extremely  defective,  not  only  in  point  of  research, 
but  in  the  fanciful  nature  of  the  theories.  He  entirely 
keeps  out  of  view  all  reference  to  skill  anterior  to  the  arts 
of  Greece  ;  while,  with  the  incredible  fables  received  in 
that  country,  he  mixes  up  no  less  groundless  notions  of 
his  own.  To  these  difficulties  in  the  more  ancient  sources 
of  information,  there  is  to  be  added  the  obscurity  arising 
from  modern  hypothesis. 

Under  these  circumstances,  and  while  the  present 
limits  preclude  lengthened  discussion  on  any  topic,  the 
most  eligible  and  useful  procedure  appears  to  offer  in  a 
plain  narrative  of  facts,  illustrated  by  a  description  of 
actual  remains,  by  reference  to  ancient  authors,  particu- 
larly Homer,  and  by  anologies  drawn  from  the  state  of 
society  and  manners.  Here  there  can  be  given  only  the 
general  results  of  such  an  inquiry. 

The  earliest  architectural  remains  in  Greece  appear  to 
have  been  military  erections,  or  at  least  constructions  for 
the  purposes  of  defence.     This  corresponds  with  the 


250 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


condition  of  a  country,  peopled,  as  we  know  this  por- 
tion of  Europe  to  have  been,  when  first  noticed  in  his- 
tory, by  different  tribes,  hostile,  generally  speaking,  to 
each  other,  and  in  all  instances  fearing  and  feared  by 
the  rude  and  fierce  aboriginal  possessors.  In  the  in- 
stances where  comparison  can  be  instituted,  the  gigantic 
elements  of  these  structures,  and  the  manner  of  their 
union,  refer  us  to  Egypt,  or  the  cognate  style  of  Syria; 
most  probably,  however,  to  the  former,  by  way  of  Crete, 
which,  as  already  shown,  formed  the  intervening  station 
in  the  progress  of  civilization.  The  traditions,  whether 
poetical,  or  merely  narrative,  connected  with  these  mon- 
uments —  whether  they  be  ascribed  to  the  labours  of  the 
gods,  or  to  the  arts  of  the  Cyclops,  whence  their  common 
appellation  —  all  point  to  a  foreign  origin,  and  to  import- 
ed skill.  This  knowledge,  too,  must  have  been  brought 
from  a  distance.  Even  on  the  adjacent  shores  of  Asia, 
we  find  the  walls  of  Troy  ascribed  by  Homer  to  celestial 
skill  —  a  clear  proof  that  in  his  time  there  existed,  neither 
in  Greece,  nor  in  the  neighboring  regions,  experience 
adequate  to  such  a  work. 

Of  these  fortresses,  the  most  celebrated,  and  probably 
the  most  ancient,  is  Tyrns,  in  the  plain  of  Argos,  and 
attributed  to  the  Lycians,  about  six  generations  prior  to 
the  Trojan  war.  This  cyclopean  wall  includes  a  circuit 
of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  enclosing  an  inconsidera- 
ble elevation  above  the  general  level  of  the  plain.  Thus 
have  evidently  been  composed  the  defences  of  the  includ- 
ed town ;  but  the  disproportion  between  the  means  of 
security  and  the  object  protected  appears  amazing,  and 
must  have  been  considered  as  wonderful  even  in  the  age 
of  Homer,  who,  in  his  catalogue,  distinguishes  this  city 
by  the  epithet  '  well-walled/  or,  as  Pope  has  rendered 
the  passage, 

Whom  strong  Tyrenthe's  lofty  walls  surround. 


ARCHITECTURE. 


251 


Indeed,  of  all  the  characteristics  added  to  the  Grecian 
confederates,  the  distinction  of  their  walled  cities  is  by 
far  the  most  frequent.  Of  all  these,  however,  the  one 
now  mentioned  only  retains  a  degree  of  regularity  seem- 
ing to  bid  defiance  to  further  dilapidation  from  time,  and 
capable  of  being  overturned  only  by  a  force  equal  to  that 
employed  in  the  construction.  Several  entrances  are  yet 
to  be  traced,  one  of  which  has,  opening  into  it,  a  gallery 
formed  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark,  that  the  top  of  this  passage  is  covered,  exactly 
as  in  the  great  pyramid,  by  immense  stones,  placed  one 
on  each  side,  and  meeting  at  an  acute  angle  in  the  cen- 
tre. Near  in  .point  of  situation,  but  somewhat  later  in 
time,  are  the  walls  of  the  '  proud  Mycenae  5  of  Homer, 
an  interesting  ruin  in  the  age  of  Thucydides,  four  hun- 
dred years  before  our  era.  These  remains  show  evident 
correspondence  with  the  style  of  Egypt.  The  very  gate- 
way, described  by  the  author  just  mentioned,  and  subse- 
quently by  Pausanius,  still  remains  ;  formed  of  single 
blocks,  the  jambs  incline  narrowing  upwards  to  eight 
feet,  and  support  a  lintel  twelve  feet  in  length.* 

Next  in  point  of  antiquity  and  preservation  to  the  pre- 
ceding are  those  singular  remains  in  Greece ;  to  which 
the  name  of  Treasury  has  been  given,  on  the  supposi- 
tion, that  as  the  former  were  constructed  as  defences 
against  hostile  violence,  the  latter  were  erected  as  places 
of  security  for  valuable  property.  From  the  frequent 
mention  of  such  structures  during  the  heroic  age,  and 
from  the  preservation  of  the  names,  true  or  false,  of  two 
architects,  Agamides  and  Trophonius,  most  eminent  in 
their  construction,  they  seem  to  have  been  regarded  as 

*  In  these  ruins  are  two  lions  sculptured  in  relievo  described  by 
Pausanius,  and  remaining  the  most  ancient  accredited  monument 
of  the  art  in  Greece. 


252 


THE  FINK  ARTS. 


of  no  ordinary  importance.  We  are  informed  that  both 
states  and  individuals  had  such  places  of  safe  custody, 
before  temples  either  existed  or  were  employed  as  reposi- 
tories for  treasure.  Of  these  buildings,  one  of  the  most 
perfect,  and  indeed  the  most  interesting  relic  of  those 
earliest  times,  is  the  treasury  of  Atreus  amid  the  ruins  of 
Mycenae.  Externally  it  presents  the  appearance  of  a 
mound  of  earth ;  but  the  interior  is  found  to  be  a  magni- 
ficent structure,  circular,  fifty  feet  in  diameter,  and  rather 
more  in  height,  composed  of  stones  of  great  size,  each 
course  projecting  inwards  and  over  the  one  below,  till, 
meeting  in  a  small  aperture  at  top,  the  whole  is  shut  in 
by  a  mass  of  very  large  dimensions.  The  general  form 
is  thus  a  hollow  cone,  or  paraboloid,  the  surface  of  which 
appears  to  have  been  coated  with  plates  of  metal,  as 
brazen  nails  still  remain  in  many  parts.  These  defences, 
both  for  person  and  property,  prepared  with  such  skill 
and  solicitude,  afford  a  very  striking  view  of  the  turbu- 
lent and  dangerous  state  of  society.,  They  are,  in  fact, 
records,  lasting  almost  as  the  Iliad  itself,  of  an  age  capa- 
ble of  such  outrages  as  gave  foundation  to  that  divine 
poem,  and  to  whose  verisimilitude  they  thus  supply  une- 
quivocal testimony. 

Into  the  condition  of  domestic  architecture  during  the 
same  period,  neither  the  poems  of  Homer,  nor  any  col- 
lateral source,  afTord  much  insight.  Both  in  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey,  palaces  are  described,  but  in  an  extremely  gen- 
eral as  well  as  indefinite  manner.  Between  these  loose 
accounts  and  the  graphic  delineations  which  the  same 
author  has  given  of  sculptured  ornaments,  as  in  the  shield 
of  Achilles,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  the  difference  of  a  de- 
scription without  a  model,  and  from  reality.  Sculpture, 
as  a  regular  art,  had  already  made  progress ;  the  science 
of  architecture  was  yet  unknown.    These  palaces,  which 


ARCHITECTURE. 


253 


appear  to  have  answered  all  purposes  of  public  edifices, 
are  described  as  very  capacious,  as  containing  numerous 
apartments,  and  as  very  rich  in  doors  of  ivory  and  gold, 
with  posts  of  silver ;  but  not  the  slightest  impression  oc- 
curs indicative  of  any  regular  order  of  architectonic  orna- 
ment or  design.  Magnificence  and  lavish  profusion  of 
splendor  are  everywhere  confounded  with  beauty  and 
grace  and  regular  art.  During  the  Homeric  age,  then, 
it  is  plain  that  the  orders  were  yet  unknown  —  a  deduc- 
tion exactly  tallying  with  the  state  of  art  in  Egypt,  where 
from  the  inspection  of  existing  monuments,  it  is  evident, 
that  a  system  or  order  was  in  like  manner  undiscovered. 
True,  the  Egyptain  edifices  resemble  each  other  in  general 
character,  and  even  to  their  measurements  agree ;  but 
the  same  building  rises  into  endless  multiplicity  of  sub- 
ordinate parts  and  forms.  So  Homer  heaps  riches  upon 
riches,  ornament  above  ornament,  making  that  fine  which 
he  cannot  render  great.  This  affords  more  valuable  evi- 
dence of  his  veracity  than  it  detracts  from  his  genius. 
Even  the  palace  of  Troy,  though  Paris  himself  is  repre- 
sented as  a  great  architect,  is  described  in  the  same  gen- 
eral terms : 

And  now  to  Priam's  stately  courts  he  came, 
Raised  on  arch'd  columns  of  stupendous  frame  j 
O'er  these  a  range  of  marble  structure  runs, 
The  rich  pavilion  of  his  fifty  sons, 
In  fifty  chambers  lodged ;  and  rooms  of  state, 
Opposed  to  these,  where  Priam's  daughters  sat; 
Twelve  domes  for  them,  and  their  loved  spouses_shone, 
Of  equal  beauty,  and  of  polished  stone. 

This,  and  indeed  almost  every  other  passage  referring 
to  the  practical  arts  of  antiquity,  is  very  incorrectly  trans- 
lated.   From  a  comparison  of  various  original  descriptions 
of  palatial  buildings,  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  highest  efforts 
22 


254 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


of  architecture  during  the  Homeric  and  succeeding  ages 
may  be  obtained.  They  appear  universally  to  have  been 
placed  so  as  to  enclose  a  court,  along  the  sides  of  which 
ran  an  open  corridore,  formed  by  pillars ;  for  the  word 
corresponding  to  column  does  not  once  occur  in  the  Iliad. 
These  pillars,  as  may  still  be  seen  in  Egyptian  buildings, 
were  united  by  flat  epistylia  or  architraves,  for  the  phrase, 
'  arched  columns,'  is  nonsense.  During  the  times  of  the 
Iliad,  no  division  of  stories  appears  to  have  been  practised ; 
and  the  expression  lofty  chamber,  so  often  occurring, 
seems  to  imply  that  the  whole  was  open  to  the  roof ;  for 
the  apartments,  with  the  exception  of  the  great  hall,  do 
not  otherwise  induce  the  idea  of  great  magnitude.  In 
the  Odyssey  again,  to  this  mode  of  division  distinct  refer- 
ence is  made,  a  circumstance  which,  with  many  others 
respecting  the  arts,  points  to  a  later  as  the  age  of  that 
poem.  The  roof  itself  may  be  inferred  from  incidental 
remarks  to  have  been  pointed,  composed  of  wooden  beams 
inclined  towards  each  other,  and  supported  in  the  central 
angle  by  columns  or  shafts  of  wood;  for  wherever  the 
word  occurs  in  the  early  poetical  literature  of  Greece,  an 
internal  member  is  implied,  and  from  the  casual  introduc- 
tion, one  of  necessity,  not  ornament,  the  only  adjunct  be- 
ing lofty  or  tall,  exactly  corresponding  with  the  distinction 
here  supposed. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  we  must  examine  elsewhere  for 
the  origin  of  ornamental  architecture  in  Greece.  And 
the  only  other  department  of  the  art  refers  to  buildings 
for  sacred  purposes.  But  even  here,  mighty  and  graceful 
as  are  the  existing  ruins,  many  ages  elapse  before  we 
reach  the  era  of  the  temple  —  where 

The  whole  so  measured  true,  so  lessen'd  off, 
By  fine  proportion  that  the  marble  pile, 
Form'd  to  repel  the  still  or  stormy  waste 


ARCHITECTURE. 


255 


Of  rolling  ages,  light  as  fabrics  look'd, 
That  from  the  magic  wand  aerial  rise. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  the  Iliad  no  mention  occurs 
of  a  temple  in  Greece,  except  in  the  second  book,  evi- 
dently incidental,  and  the  interpolation  of  some  vainly 
patriotic  Athenian  rhapsodist.  The  passage,  indeed, 
might  be  condemned,  on  the  grounds  of  philological  dis- 
cussion, but  it  contradicts  both  the  history  of  art  and  of 
religion  in  that  country.  In  Troy,  the  temple  of  Minerva 
appears  to  have  been  a  mere  shrine,  in  which  a  statue 
was  enclosed,  and  probably,  in  Tenedos,  a  temple  of 
Apollo  is  merely  alluded  to.  During  the  age  of  Homer, 
then,  the  primeval  altar,  common  both  to  Europe  and 
Asia,  was  the  only  sacred  edifice  known.  This  differed 
little  from  a  common  hearth;  the  sacrifice  being  in  fact  a 
social  rite,  the  victim,  at  once  an  offering  to  heaven,  and 
the  food  of  man,  was  prepared  by  roasting ;  the  first  im- 
provement upon  this  simple  construction  appears  to  have 
been  the  addition  of  a  pavement,  an  obvious  means  of 
cleanliness  and  comfort.  Yet  even  this  appears  to  have 
constituted  a  distinction  at  least  not  common,  since,  in 
particular  instances,  the  pavement  is  mentioned  as  a 
peculiar  ornament.  Subsequently,  in  order  to  mark  in  a 
more  conspicuous  manner,  and  with  more  dignity,  the 
sacred  spot,  while  the  rites  should  be  equally  exposed  to 
the  spectators,  an  open  colonnade  was  added,  enclosing 
the  altar  and  pavement.  Thus  the  roofless  temple  might 
be  said  to  be  finished ;  but  whether  this  primeval  struc- 
ture existed  in  his  native  country  during  the  age  of 
Homer,  does  not  appear.  We  remark  here  a  very  strik- 
ing resemblance  between  the  ancient  places  of  devotion 
in  Greece,  and  the  Druidical  temple  of  the  more  north- 
ern regions.  In  fact,  the  astonishing  remains  at  Stone- 
henge  present  the  best  known,  and  perhaps  one  of  the 


256 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


most  stupendous  examples  ever  erected  of  the  open 
temple.  This  species  of  religious  erection  appears  to 
have  been  co-extensive  with  the  spread  of  the  human 
race,  and  not,  as  generally  supposed,  limited  to  the  north- 
ern portion  of  the  globe. 

The  revolutions  in  Greece,  which  abolished  the  regal, 
while  they  respected  and  increased  the  pontifical  author- 
ity, the  gradual  additions  of  magnificence  and  conve- 
nience to  the  places  of  sacrifice,  producing  at  length  the 
regular  temple  ;  the  change  of  design  from  the  circle  to 
the  quadrangle ;  all  these  can  now  only  be  conjectured 
as  to  their  causes  and  progressive  vicissitudes.  One 
thing  appears  certain,  that  the  earliest  approaches  to  the 
perfect  temple  were  erections  of  wood  ;  and  this  materi- 
ally contributed  to  fix  the  character  of  later  architecture  : 
yet  there  still  remain  temples  of  stone,  whose  date  tran- 
scends the  epochs  of  known  history.  During  this  inter- 
val, Grecian  architecture  assumed  regularity  and  science, 
for  the  earliest  dawnings  of  authentic  information  light 
us  to  monuments  of  a  systematic  style,  differing  from  the 
Egyptian  in  the  rejection  of  all  variety  of  ornament,  yet,, 
like  it,  solemn,  massive,  and  imposing.  This  is  the 
order  which,  subsequently,  under  the  name  of  Doric,  ex- 
tended over  the  whole  of  Greece  and  her  colonies.  To 
this  the  most  ancient  species  of  the  art,  various  origin  has 
been  assigned ;  but  from  our  imperfect  knowledge  of 
contemporary  events,  and  from  the  impossibility  of  ex- 
tending research,  it  is  plain  that  nothing  can  with  cer- 
tainty be  known.  The  most  ably  supported,  but  not  less 
improbable  theory,  is  that  of  Dr  Wilkins,  already  referred 
to,  who  supposes  the  order  to  have  been  directly  intro- 
duced from  Syria,  and  Solomon's  temple  ;  his  reasonings 
and  calculations  on  this  subject  present  a  rare  combina- 
tion of  ingenuity,  learning,  and  practical  science.  The 


ARCHITECTURE. 


257 


premises,  however,  are  assumed,  namely,  that  the  word 
translated  '  chapiter '  in  the  common  version  of  the  book 
of  Kings,  means  not  only  the  capital,  but  includes  the 
entablature  also  ;  a  gratuitous  assumption,  opposed  by 
the  dimensions  still  visible  in  the  parent  source  of  Egyp- 
tian columns,  and  which,  even  granted,  would  not  prove 
an  identity  in  purpose  and  proportion  with  the  Greek 
order.    The  hypothesis  of  Vitruvius  is  fanciful,  namely, 
that  the  proportion  of  the  human  foot  to  the  height  of 
the  body,  was  adopted  as  the  rule  for  the  proportion  of 
the  base  to  the  elevation  of  the  column.    The  most  pro- 
bable view  seems  to  be,  that  this  order  sprung  up  as  the 
fruit  of  continued  observation  on  the^  practice  of  Egyp- 
tian art,  as  compared  with  the  methods  of  wooden  erection 
employed  among  the  early  Greeks  themselves.  This 
would  necessarily  give  an  intermediate  style  in  simplicity 
and  lightness  ;  the  pine,  common  in  the  ancient  forests 
of  Greece,  truncated  for  any  purpose,  gives  at  once  a 
very  near  approximation  to  the  shaft ;  the  same  tree  con- 
verted into  a  squared  beam,  gives  the  horizontal  binding 
or  architrave ;   the  merely  ornamental  or  subordinate 
members  would  be  suggested  in  progressive  operations  of 
experience,  or  they  might  be  introduced  by  selection  ; 
for,  as  already  noted,  every  ornament  of  succeeding  art, 
though  not  under  the  same  combinations,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  Egyptian  modes.     The  whole  history  of  taste, 
even  as  touched  upon  in  these  pages,  favors  this  slow  and 
native  growth  of  an  art  among  every  people  remarkable 
for  its  successful  cultivation.    The  three  orders  —  the 
Doric,  the  Ionic,  and  the  Corinthian,  exhibit  also  this 
gradual  process  of  discovery  and  advance  to  perfection. 
It  is  historically,  as  well  as  poetically  true,  that 

 First,  unadorn'd, 

And  nobly  plain,  the  manly  Doric  rose ; 
22* 


258 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


The  Ionic  then  with  decent  matron  grace 

Her  airy  pillar  heaved  ;  luxuriant  last 

The  rich  Corinthian  spread  her  wanton  wreath. 

The  character  of  genius  in  Greece  likewise  favors 
these  views,  more  exquisitely  alive  to  beauty,  to  propriety, 
to  decorous  simplicity  and  grandeur,  than  distinguished 
for  those  qualities  that  more  decisively  belong  to  inven- 
tion—  fire,  impetuousity,  wild  irregularity,  or  rude  ma- 
jesty. 

Neither  then  were  the  primitive  elements  invented,  and 
thence  without  aid  of  more  ancient  knowledge,  the  orders 
or  systems  of  architecture  brought  to  perfection  in 
Greece ;  nor  was  any  one  of  these  introduced  wholly  or  at 
once  in  a  state  approaching  to  perfect  symmetry  and  ar- 
rangement. In  this,  as  in  all  their  arts,  no  less  than  in 
their  literature,  the  Greeks  borrowed,  imitated,  selected, 

—  and  yet  they  created  —  they  assimilated  discordant  va- 
riety to  one  solemn  breathing  harmony  —  they  brought 
out  every  latent  germ  of  beauty  that  lay  overwhelmed  in 
the  mass  of  more  ancient  thought.  From  the  dark  yet 
mighty  accumulations  of  Eastern  knowledge  and  skill, 
their  genius  spake  forth  that  light  and  that  perfection 
which,  in  human  wisdom  and  taste,  still  guides,  corrects, 
and  animates.    Yet  their  improvements  were  but  so  many 

—  important  indeed  —  intermediate  gradations  in  the 
universal  system  of  obligation  which  nations  owe  to  each 
other.  Cut  while  sound  judgment  constrains  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  exclusive  pretensions  of  the  Greek  writers  on 
the  particular  subject  in  question,  it  must  be  confessed 
there  is  in  these  something  more  than  pleasing.  They 
are  not  selfish ;  they  are  deeply  connected  with  the  sym- 
pathies and  the  feelings  —  the  truest,  best  associations  in 
objects  of  art.  Though  we  find  all  the  elements  of  com- 
position in  Egyptian  architecture,  and  must  believe  that 


ARCHITECTURE. 


259 


the  Greek  orders  were  in  their  origin  thence  derived ;  yet 
the  very  idea,  that  the  sedate  grandeur  of  the  Doric  bor- 
rowed its  majesty  from  imitation  of  man's  vigorous  frame 
and  decorous  carriage ;  or  that  the  chaste  proportions  of 
the  graceful  Ionic  were  but  resemblances  of  female  ele- 
gance and  modesty,  —  the  belief  of  all  this,  so  carefully 
cherished,  was  calculated  to  produce  the  happiest  effect 
upon  living  manners.  So  also,  though  the  origin  of  the 
Corinthian  capital  is  apparent  in  an  object  emblematic 
over  the  whole  East,  and  not  unknown  even  in  some 
Christian  forms,  the  mysterious  lotus,  whose  leaves  so  fre- 
quently constitute  the  adornment  of  the  Egyptian  col- 
umn ;  still,  how  dear  to  the  heart  the  thought  of  most 
perfect  skill  receiving  its  model  from  the  humble  tribute 
of  affection  placed  on  the  grave  of  the  Corinthian  maid, 
round  which  nature  had  by  chance  thrown  the  graceful 
acanthus !  If,  in  the  sober  inquiries  of  history,  such 
opinions  are  removed,  the  act  is  done  with  regret.  Yet 
in  this  onward  path  of  truth,  if  one  blossom  planted  there 
by  human  feeling  must  be  beaten  down,  how  grateful  the 
incense  even  of  the  crushed  flower ! 

The  three  orders  now  mentioned  constitute  the  whole 
system  of  Greek  architecture.  The  Doric  appears  to 
have  been  the  most  ancient,  and  continued  down  to  the 
period  of  the  Roman  conquest  to  be  most  extensively  em- 
ployed in  the  European  states  of  Greece,  as  these  were 
colonized  chiefly  by  the  Dorians  —  hence  the  name.  Of 
this  order  are  the  most  celebrated  remains  of  ancient  art, 
which  may  be  divided  into  two  great  classes,  namely, 
those  of  Greece,  and  of  the  Greek  settlements  in  Sicily 
and  Southern  Italy.  The  first  class  of  buildings  compre- 
hends a  space  extending  from  the  earliest  traditions,  when 
iEachus,  in  the  commencement  of  the  tenth  century  be- 
fore Christ,  is  reported  to  have  built  the  temple  of  Jupi- 


260 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


ter  still  remaining  in  ^Egina,  to  the  erection  of  the  Par- 
thenon, the  noblest  monument  of  this  order,  which,  from 
its  beauty,  and  the  predilection  in  its  favor,  has  been 
termed  the  Grecian.  Subsequently,  decline  appears  so 
early  as  the  era  of  the  Macedonian  empire  ;  but  the  latest 
erection  is  supposed  coeval  with  the  reign  of  Augustus. 
Within  the  ten  centuries  thus  comprehended  between  the 
first  and  last  application  of  the  Doric  order,  must  have 
been  erected  those  magnificent  structures  whose  ruins 
still  adorn  Greece.  The  probable  ages  of  these  are  as 
follow  :  commencing  with  the  JEgenetic  ruin  just  men- 
tioned, whose  date  is  lost  in  remote  antiquity,  and  which 
seems  to  have  formed  the  second  remove  only  in  the 
march  of  art  westward  from  its  primeval  sources,  to  Crete, 
iEgina,  Greece.  Next,  the  celebrated  four  columns  near 
Corinth.  The  temple  of  Jupiter  at  Olympia  either  pre- 
cedes or  follows,  the  architect  Libon,  and  the  roof,  the 
first  of  the  kind,  formed  of  marble  tiles,  the  invention  of 
Byzes  of  Naxos.  An  interval  occurs  here,  carrying  us 
forward  to  the  Athenian  structures,  the  most  ancient  of 
which,  the  temple  of  Theseus,  belongs  to  a  much  later 
period  than  any  of  the  preceding.  The  date  of  the  Pro- 
pylea  and  the  Parthenon  crowning  the  Acropolis,  and 
placed  in  situation  as  in  excellence  eminently  conspicu- 
ous, is  fixed  by  the  most  splendid  names  in  Grecian  art ; 
—  they  were  built  under  the  direction  of  Phidias,  the  for- 
mer by  Mnesicles,  the  latter  by  Ictinus,  encouraged  by 
the  patronage  of  Pericles. 

Ancient  of  days  !  august  Athena  !  where, 

Where  are  thy  men  of  might  ?  thy  grand  in  soul  ? 

Gone  —  glimmering  through  the  dream  of  things  that  were. 

First  in  the  race  that  led  to  Glory's  goal, — 

They're  sought  in  vain,  and  o'er  each  mouldering  tower, 

Dim  with  the  mist  of  years,  grey  flits  the  shade  of  power. 


ARCHITECTURE. 


261 


To  Ictinus  is  also  to  be  ascribed  the  most  perfect  vestige 
of  antiquity  now  in  existence,  the  Temple  of  the  Apollo 
Epicurius,  in  Arcadia,  and  which  is  reported  to  have 
been  one  of  the  most  splendid  buildings  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesus. The  magnificent  columns  which  '  crown  Suni- 
um's  marble  steep,'  belong  to  the  same  era,  and  proba- 
bly to  the  same  school.  For  sixty  years  afterwards,  we 
have  no  decline  in  the  grandeur  or  purity  of  the  Doric, 
as  yet  appears  in  the  ruins  of  Messene,  a  city  built  by 
Epaminondas,  and  still  exhibiting  the  most  perfect  speci- 
men of  ancient  military  architecture.  But  the  victories 
of  this  warrior  were  parricidal  triumphs ;  they  were 
gained  over  those  who  ought  to  have  been  as  brothers. 
In  sculpture,  we  have  already  seen  that  this  era  marks 
the  retrogression  of  the  manly  and  the  grand  in  style  ;  it 
is  so  in  architecture,  for  in  less  than  forty  years,  a  great 
declension  in  these  respects  must  have  taken  place  in 
this  the  grandest  and  most  severe  of  the  orders,  as  is 
attested  by  the  specimen  in  the  isle  of  Delos,  inscribed 
with  the  name  of  Philip  of  Macedon.  After  this  the 
Doric  either  fell  into  desuetude,  or  the  works  have  per- 
ished, for  the  only  remaining  example  is  the  portico, 
erected  by  Augustus  in  one  of  the  agorai  or  squares  of 
Athens. 

Of  the  remains  of  Doric  architecture  in  the  ancient 
seats  of  the  Sicilan  and  Italian  colonies,  the  dates,  even 
with  ordinary  accuracy,  it  is  impossible  individually  to 
ascertain.  The  former  claim  the  highest  antiquity  in 
some,  but  not  in  all  instances.  The  temple  of  Egesta, 
in  the  interior  of  the  island,  is  perhaps  one  of  the  oldest, 
yet  among  the  least  imperfect  monuments  of  the  art  in 
Europe ;  contemporary  or  earlier,  is  the  temple  of  Miner- 
va, at  Syracuse  ;  the  other  remains  near  that  city  are  of 
a  later  date,    The  ponderous  ruins  at  Selinus,  which 


262 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


consist  of  no  less  than  six  temples,  one  of  which,  three 
hundred  and  thirty-one  feet  in  length,  composed  of  a 
double  peristyle  of  columns  sixty  feet  high,  must  have 
presented  one  of  the  sublimest  objects  ever  reared  by 
human  art.  Ruins  at  Agrigentum  —  Temple  of  Juno 
most  picturesque,  of  Concord  very  perfect  —  three  others, 
last  the  grand  Temple  of  Olympian  Jupiter,  one  of  the 
most  stupendous  buildings  of  the  ancient  world,  and 
whose  buried  materials  swell  into  hills  or  subside  in  val- 
leys, over  which  we  have  ourselves  wandered,  without  at 
first  knowing  that  we  trode  upon  the  prostrate  labours  of 
man,  and  not  the  workings  of  nature. 

With  the  exception  of  the  two  first,  these  remains  as 
also  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  at  Gela,  seem  to  be  nearly  of 
the  same  age.  Indeed,  their  erection  can  be  fixed  be- 
tween certain  limits,  by  comparison  of  historical  details, 
in  which,  either  by  direct  mention  or  inference,  a  con- 
nexion is  traced  between  the  political  condition  and  the 
arts  of  the  Sicilian  cities.  Proceeding  in  this  manner,  it 
is  found  that  all  of  these  enormous  piles  rose  in  little 
more  than  a  century,  embracing  the  greater  part  of  the 
fifth,  and  the  early  portion  of  the  fourth,  before  our  era. 
These  edifices  thus  fall  in  with  the  interval  already  no- 
ticed between  the  earliest  Doric  buildings  in  Greece,  and 
the  erection  of  the  Athenian  temples.  Accordingly, 
there  appear  in  them  more  noble  proportions  and  a  great- 
er elevation  of  column  than  in  the  former,  still  without 
the  graceful  majesty  of  the  latter.  Under  what  circum- 
stances, however,  or  by  what  science,  many  of  these 
wonderful  fabrics  were  reared,  history  affords  no  informa- 
tion. Of  the  rise  and  the  overthrow,  for  instance,  of  the 
temples  at  Selinus,  we  know  nothing ;  some  even  doubt 
whether  human  power  could  have  overthrown  what  it 
had  elevated ;  and  ascribe  the  regular  prostration  of  the 


ARHITECTURE. 


263 


gigantic  columns,  each  often  exactly  in  a  line,  extending 
outwards  from  its  base,  as  if  overturned  but  yesterday,  to 
the  concussion  of  an  earthquake.  These  appearances 
we  have  certainly  remarked  with  astonishment,  and  have 
beheld,  and  measured,  and  wandered  amid  the  ruins, 
with  admiration  not  unmingled  with  awe ;  but  the  truth 
was  obvious,  that  the  same  age  which  could  arrange 
these  masses  into  symmetry,  could  also  have  cast  them 
down  as  they  now  lie.  And  we  know  that  it  was  the 
same  age  —  for  one  page,  almost  one  sentence,  records 
both  their  rise  and  their  fall.  Yet  of  the  energies  and 
knowledge  of  that  age,  our  own  has  no  conception.  The 
riches  of  any  one  of  the  sovereigns  of  Europe,  and  the 
skill  of  his  wisest  subjects,  would  barely  suffice  for  the 
erection  of  only  one  of  the  six  Selinuntine  temples  — 
the  works  of  a  distant  colony  of  Greece.  That  this  may 
not  appear  exaggeration,  let  the  reader  contemplate  for  a 
moment  an  edifice  —  the  porticos  of  which  alone  would 
require  one  hundred  columns  of  stone,  each  sixty  feet 
high,  and  thirty  in  circumference  —  such  was  the  great 
Temple  of  Selinus. 

The  celebrated  ruins  of  Paestum,  consisting  of  two 
temples  and  a  quadrangular  portico,  containing  eighteen 
columns  in  flank,  and  seven  in  front,  compose  the  only 
Grecian  Doric  remains  in  Italy.  The  date  and  origin  of 
these  structures  will  probably  ever  remain  liable  to  doubt. 
This  arises  partly  from  the  singular  nature  of  some  of  the 
buildings  themselves,  as  well  as  from  the  obscurity  which 
rests  upon  this  portion  of  history  in  general.  The  greater 
of  the  two  temples  bears  evident  character  of  the  same 
design  and  architectural  principles  as  the  Sicilian  edifices  ; 
between  which  latter,  indeed,  as  compared  with  each 
other,  there  exists,  in  this  respect,  a  very  striking  uni- 
formity, pointing  to  a  nearly  contemporary  erection.  Hence 


264 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


the  inference  seems  clear,  that  to  the  same  era  the  Paestan 
ruin  is  to  be  referred,  and  that  it  is  the  work  of  Greek 
colonists  from  Sybaris,  who,  from  the  middle  of  the  sixth 
century  B.  C,  for  more  than  two  hundred  years  enjoyed 
peaceable  possession  of  this  part  of  Lucania.  This  tem- 
ple, though  not  equal  in  magnitude  to  some  ruins  in  Sicily, 
is  a  very  noble,  and  the  largest  pile  in  a  state  of  such 
perfection  out  of  Greece.  Not  a  single  column  of  the 
outer  peristylia  is  wanting.  It  was  within  this  '  pillared 
range,'  during  the  moonlight  of  a  troubled  sky,  we  experi- 
enced emotions  of  the  awful  and  sublime,  such  as  impress 
a  testimony,  never  to  be  forgotten,  of  the  power  of  art 
over  the  affections  of  the  mind. 

The  other  ruins,  which  some  consider  a  temple  and  a 
hall  of  justice,  others,  with  greater  probability,  two  tem- 
ples, though,  like  the  former  in  situation, 

They  stand  between  the  mountain  and  the  sea, 
Awful  memorials,  but  of  whom  we  know  not, 

are  far  inferior  in  dignity  of  effect  and  purity  of  style. 
Nor  are  these  defects  the  consequences  of  a  progressive 
knowledge  advancing  to  better  things,  they  are  evident 
corruptions  of  ancient  simplicity.  Both  these  are  to  be 
referred  to  a  period  posterior  to  the  Roman  conquest  of 
the  city,  which  occurred  in  the  481st  year  of  Rome,  that 
is,  not  three  centuries  before  our  era.  Of  the  same  age 
are  the  walls,  remaining  in  considerable  entireness,  espe- 
cially the  eastern  gate,  as  represented  in  the  vignette, 
where  the  voussoirs,  or  arch-stones,  still  span  the  entrance. 

Here  it  may  be  proper,  without  going  into  the  particular 
facts  and  reasonings  upon  which  the  inference  is  founded, 
merely  to  state,  that,  regarding  the  introduction  of  the 
arch  into  classic  architecture^  the  weight  of  evidence  is 
against  any  knowledge  of  its  use  or  construction  prior  to 
the  era  of  Alexander.    Indeed,  the  arch  is  contrary  to 


ARCHITECTURE. 


265 


the  whole  genius  of  the  Greek  system,  which  delights 
in  the  simplicity  of  horizontal  and  perpendicular  lines, 
to  which  the  contrasts,  minute  divisions,  and  constantly 
recurring  breaks  of  arched  building,  are  most  directly 
opposed.  During  the  pure  ages  of  truly  Grecian  taste, 
the  very  improvements  and  changes  which  successively 
ensued,  all  tended  to  guide  invention  farthest  from  the 
arch.  To  add  elevation  to  the  column,  and  to  increase 
the  unbroken  length  of  the  entablature,  were  objects  most 
directly  pursued.  The  greater  richness  or  variety  of  orna- 
ment thus  admitted,  was  an  advantage  rather  incidental 
than  contemplated,  though  with  exquisite  skill  rendered 
available  — 

 without  o'erflowing  —  full. 

Whether  the  Ionic  order  of  architecture  originated 
merely  as  a  variation  on  the  '  Dorian  mode,'  or  as  a  sepa- 
rate invention,  it  is  not  easy,  and  not  of  much  importance, 
to  determine.  The  two  ideas  may  be  reconciled  ;  remains 
of  Ionic  are  found  coeval  with  the  earliest  certain  accounts 
of  the  Doric  edifices ;  so  far  the  former  was  independent, 
and  having  arisen  among  the  Ionian  states,  where  subse- 
quently it  continued  to  be  employed  in  preference,  it  thus 
obtained  a  distinct  name  and  character.  Afterwards, 
however,  on  being  brought  into  use  in  European  Greece, 
architects  appear  to  have  studied  its  capabilities,  chiefly 
in  contrast  with  the  corresponding  proprieties  of  the  Doric. 
Here  something  like  an  encroachment  was  made  on  its 
separate  identity  ;  or  rather,  the  artists  of  those  times 
contemplated  each  system  as  a  modification,  in  part,  of 
one  great  whole,  bearing  a  relation  only  to  the  emotions 
of  grandeur  and  beauty.  This  is  still  the  proper  view  in 
which  the  orders  are  to  be  regarded  in  reference  to  excel- 
lence in  architectural  composition.  Now,  indeed,  the 
23 


266 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


moderns  possess  the  advantage  of  a  principle  then  un- 
known—  the  principle  of  association,  which  both  limits 
the  field  of  choice,  and  increases  the  beauty  of  a  just 
selection. 

Of  the  Ionic  order,  few  remains  are  extant  in  Greece 
or  her  colonies  —  few,  we  mean,  as  compared  with  the 
amazing  structures  just  considered.   The  Temple  of  Juno, 
in  the  Isle  of  Samos,  raised  about  the  first  Olympiad  by 
Rsechus  and  Theodorus,  already  noticed  as  the  founders 
of  the  Samian  School  of  Sculpture,  supplies  the  earliest 
specimen.    This,  in  the  age  of  Herodotus,  was  the  grand- 
est building  in  Greece.    How  rapidly  the  order  must 
have  improved  !    Many  archaisms,  not  to  say  barbarous 
inventions,  occur.     Next  in  age  has  been  placed  the 
singular  but  not  ungraceful  monument  at  Agrigentum, 
called  the  Tomb  of  Theron.    Here  we  discover,  indeed, 
Ionic  columns,  but  everything  else  is  Doric  —  proofs,  first, 
of  the  antiquity  of  the  monument ;  and  secondly,  of  the 
truth  of  our  opinion,  more  than  once  hinted  in  these 
pages,  that  the  Dorian  colonies  in  Sicily  were  original 
settlements  from  the  East,  little  or  no  intermediate  con- 
nexion having  taken  place  between  them  and  the  Dorians 
of  the  Peloponnesus,  who  affected  to  be  considered  as  the 
mother  country.    If  pursued  to  the  full  extent  of  its  con- 
sequences, this  position  would  go  far  to  explain  several 
doubts,  in  regard  to  the  early  power  and  arts  of  the  Sici- 
lian and  Lucanian  cities.    The  earliest  example  of  the 
true  Ionic,  is  the  Temple  of  Bacchus  at  Teos,  erected, 
most  probably,  soon  after  the  Persian  invasion,  or  not 
later  than  fifty  years  after,  or  about  440  B.  C.  At  Athens, 
however,  in  the  temples  of  Minerva,  Polias,  and  Erec- 
theus,  is  to  be  found  the  most  perfect  remain  of  this  order, 
but  of  what  precise  date  is  uncertain,  —  probably  about 
the  era  of  the  Peloponnesian  war.    Near  Miletus,  the 


ARCHITECTURE. 


267 


Temple  of  Apollo,  erected  by  the  architects  Peonius  and 
Daphnis,  brings  us  down  to  that  of  Minerva  at  Priene,  by 
Pitheas,  in  the  age  of  Alexander  ;  after  which  no  speci- 
mens are  to  be  found  more  ancient  than  the  Roman  con- 
quest, with  the  exception  of  some  in  different  parts  of 
Asia  Minor,  whose  dates  cannot  be  ascertained. 

In  these  two  orders,  now  described,  almost  every  beauty 
of  composition  had  been  attained,  except  facility  of  ar- 
rangement, with  that  extreme  simplicity  in  which  the 
taste  of  '  early  Greece '  seems  to  have  placed  the  very 
perfection  of  the  art.  In  the  Doric,  the  triglyphs  broke 
in  upon  the  unity  of  the  entablature  viewed  in  perspec- 
tive, producing  also  complexity  in  the  intervals,  or  diffi- 
culty of  managing  them.  The  Ionic,  by  removing  the 
divisions  of  the  zoophorus,  left  the  guiding  lines  of  the 
horizontal  members  of  the  order  unbroken,  and  with 
greater  aptitude  for  the  introduction  of  ornament ;  still 
the  capital  deviated  from  the  simple  harmony  —  the  object 
contemplated  by  the  artist,  as  it  presented  different  as- 
pects viewed  in  front  or  in  flank,  and  also  was  not  equally 
adapted  to  all  situations  in  the  same  range.  By  the  in- 
vention of  the  Corinthian,  the  beauties  of  the  former  or- 
ders were  combined,  while  their  defects  were  also  obvi- 
ated ;  the  removal  of  the  triglyphs  left  the  arrangement 
unembarrassed,  while  the  circular  capital  presented  always 
the  same  outline,  and  adapted  itself  equally  to  all  posi- 
tions. The  system  of  Greek  architecture,  the  most  per- 
fect combination  of  the  necessities  of  science  with  forms 
most  pleasing  to  the  eye,  that  ever  did,  or,  we  may  ven- 
ture to  say,  will  exist,  was  completed.  When  this  perfec- 
tion was  attained  is  doubtful,  as  we  have  elsewhere 
shown ;  *  but  the  question  is  of  less  importance,  since  it 

*  See  Edinburgh  Encyclopaedia,  vol.  xviii.  part  i.  p.  21. 


268 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


is  known  that  the  Corinthian  order  was  employed  by  Sco- 
pas  in  the  magnificent  temple  of  Minerva  at  Tegea,  erect- 
ed between  the  94th  and  104th  Olympiad,  or  nearly  400 
years  before  the  Christian  era. 

Of  the  remaining  monuments  of  this  order,,  few  can 
be  ascribed  to  the  best  ages  of  Grecian  taste.  It  became 
the  favorite  style  after  Alexander,  and  especially  of  the 
Romans,  to  whom  is  to  be  attributed  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  Corinthian  remains  now  in  Greece.  The  cir- 
cular erection  of  Lysicrates,  commonly  termed,  from  the 
occasion  commemorated,  the  Choragic  Monument,  built 
342  B.  C. ;  the  octagonal  edifice  of  Andronicus  Cyrrhes- 
tes,  apparently  not  much  later ;  most  probably  the  magni- 
ficent remains  of  the  temple  of  the  Olympian  Jupiter; 
and,  according  to  Stuart,  another  ruin,  which  he  calls  the 
Poikcle  Stoa,  or  painted  portico,  compose  the  sole  re- 
mains of  the  order  prior  to  the  Roman  conquest.  The 
first  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  and  perfect  gems  of 
architectural  taste,  and  the  purest  specimen  of  the  order,, 
that  has  reached  our  time,  whose  minuteness  and  unob- 
trusive beauty  have  preserved  it  almost  entire  amid  the 
ruins  of  the  mightiest  piles  of  Athenian  art.  The  second 
is  curious  in  its  contrivance  to  supply  ignorance  of  the 
arch.  The  fourth  is  of  doubtful  antiquity ;  but  of  the 
third,  the  columns,  at  least,  are  of  the  best  age  of  Greece. 
These,  composed  of  the  finest  white  marble,  and  of  the 
most  perfect  workmanship,  with  an  elevation  of  nearly 
sixty  feet,  and  belonging  to  an  edifice  four  hundred  long, 
awaken  emotions  of  regret,  of  magnificence,  and  of  beau- 
ty, difficult  to  comprehend  or  to  impart. 

In  thus  briefly  following  out  the  history  of  the  orders, 
as  far  as  researches  can  be  authenticated  by  remaining 
examples,  the  narrative  has  conducted  us  to  the  death  of 
Alexander,  A.  C.  324,  while  it  has  included  the  consider- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


269 


ation  of  every  essential  principle,  for  the  Greeks  never 
widely  deviated  from  their  established  modes.  The  cary- 
atic  supports  of  the  Temples  of  the  Nymph  Pandrosos, 
still  almost  perfect  at  Athens,  and  the  Persian  portico  said 
to  have  been  at  Sparta,  form  the  only  exceptions  to  this 
observation.  These,  however,  were  never  imitated  —  they 
were  suffered  as  individual  fantasies  —  not  allowed  as 
models.  The  period  just  considered,  comprehending  a 
space  of  about  113  years  from  Pericles  to  Alexander,  was 
occupied  almost  exclusively  with  the  perfecting  and  appli- 
cation of  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian  orders.  The  art  had 
now  attained,  in  all  its  modes,  the  highest  character  of 
purity  and  magnificence. 

For  more  than  two  successive  centuries,  the  history  of 
the  art  would  conduct  to  consideration  of  the  labours  of 
the  Greek  princes  in  the  East,  when  Asia  received  back 
the  early  information  given  to  Europe.  How  vast  the 
interval  of  obligation  !  But  of  all  the  labours  of  those 
times,  great  as  they  must  have  been,  when  one  alone  of 
the  Seleucidan  dynasty  founded  forty  cities,  only  a  few 
remains  in  Ionia,  with  one  or  two  in  Greece,  are  known, 
or  have  been  explored.  To  this  period  are  doubtless  to 
be  referred  ruins  in  the  Greek  style,  said  to  exist  in  Syria 
and  Persia,  while,  as  already  noticed,  the  Romans  justly 
claim  those  more  commonly  visited ;  but  over  all  these 
hangs  an  obscurity  perhaps  now  impenetrable.  Innova- 
tions upon  the  severe  purity  of  ancient  taste  were  now  cer- 
tainly introduced ;  still  the  art  had  not  suffered  any  lapse ; 
the  essential  principles  appear  to  have  been  fully  under- 
stood, and  sufficiently  respected.  This,  indeed,  is  the 
case,  to  a  degree  of  veneration  not  generally  supposed,  at 
least  in  the  remains  of  Asia  Minor,  while  now,  in  com- 
plete possession  of  a  new  and  mighty  element  of  design  — 
the  arch;  never  before  had  architecture  exhibited  so  great 
23* 


270 


THE   FINE  ARTS* 


capabilities,  or  powers  adequate  to  the  most  gigantic  works, 
whether  of  use  or  magnificence. 

In  this  state  the  art  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Ro- 
mans, when  universal  conquest  had  left  them  masters  of 
the  world.  Thence  commences  a  new  era  in  the  history 
of  architecture,  distinguished,  however,  rather  by  new 
applications  than  by  fresh  inventions.  The  art  continued 
essentially  Greek,  for,  though  to  the  Etruscans,  and  sub- 
sequently to  the  early  Romans,  an  order  has  been  ascribed, 
no  specimen  of  this  Tuscan  capital  has  come  down  to  our 
times,  and  consequently  there  exist  no  means  of  tracing 
the  narrative  or  descriptions  of  Vitruvius.  But  by  the 
account  even  of  this  native  writer,  the  public  buildings 
of  the  regal  and  consular  times  were  rude  enough,  exhi- 
biting a  state  of  the  science  as  already  described  among 
the  early  nations  of  the  East —  vertical  supports  of  stone, 
with  wooden  bearers.  This  continued  to  be  their  style 
of  design  and  practice,  till  extending  empire  brought  the 
Romans  acquainted  with  the  arts  of  the  Dorian  settle- 
ments on  the  east  and  southern  shores  of  Italy.  The 
situation  of  the  capital,  however,  distant  from  accessible 
materials,  the  simplicity  —  not  to  say  homeliness  of  man- 
ners —  and  the  constant  bent  of  the  national  genius  to- 
wards foreign  conquest,  at  first  denied  power  to  profit  by 
accession  of  science,  or  subsequently  diverted  attention 
away  from  its  pleasures  and  its  advantages.  Down  to  the 
conquest  of  Asia  and  the  termination  of  the  republic, 
Rome  continued  a  '  city  of  wood  and  brick.'  Only  with 
the  establishment  of  the  empire  and  the  reign  of  Augus- 
tus, with  the  wealth  of  the  world  at  command,  and  the 
skill  of  Greece  to  direct  the  application,  commences  the 
valuable  history  of  architecture  among  the  Romans. 

This,  the  last  period  of  Classic  Art,  comprehends  a 
space  of  about  350  years,  terminating  with  the  transfer- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


271 


ence  of  the  seat  of  empire  by  Constantine,  A.  D.  306. 
Of  this  interval,  however,  only  the  smaller  portion  must 
be  given  to  a  taste  even  comparatively  pure ;  for,  great 
as  were  its  resources,  symptoms  of  the  decay  of  art,  con- 
tinually increasing,  are  detected  even  from  the  first  years 
of  the  imperial  government.  Without  entering  minutely 
into  these  gradations,  the  death  of  Hadrian,  A.  D.  138, 
may  be  assumed  as  including  both  the  noblest  erections 
and  the  better  taste  of  the  empire.  That  to  this  date, 
the  essential  characteristics  of  elegance  and  purity  con- 
tinued in  a  degree  untainted,  there  is  evidence  in  the 
works  of  Hadrian  at  Athens.  Thus,  during  an  interval 
of  not  less  than  574  years,  from  Pericles  to  the  last  men- 
tioned emperor,  architecture,  in  this  respect  more  fortu- 
nate than  either  sculpture  or  painting,  flourished  in  splen- 
dor and  excellence  not  greatly  impaired. 

Of  all  the  fine  arts  —  poetry  not  excepted — architec- 
ture is  the  only  one  into  which  the  Roman  mind  entered 
with  the  real  enthusiasm  of  natural  and  national  feeling. 
Success  corresponded  with  the  exalted  sentiment  whence 
it  arose ;  here  have  been  left  for  the  admiration  of  future 
ages,  the  most  magnificent  proofs  of  original  genius. 
This  originality,  however,  depends  not  upon  invention  so 
much  as  upon  application  of  modes.  To  the  architec- 
tonic system,  indeed,  the  Romans  claim  to  have  added 
two  novel  elements  in  their  own  Doric,  or  Tuscan,  and 
Composite  orders.  But  in  the  restless  spirit  of  innovation 
which  these  betray,  the  alleged  invention  discovers  a  total 
want  of  the  true  feeling  and  understanding  of  the  science 
of  Grecian  design.  In  this  very  desire  of  novelty,  and 
in  the  principles  upon  which  it  was  pursued,  are  to  be 
traced  the  immediate  causes  of  ruin  to  the  art,  while  yet 
its  resources  were  unimpaired.  Trie  Romans  unfortu- 
nately viewed  the  constituents  of  the  Greek  orders,  and 


272 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


even  the  orders  themselves,  as  so  many  conventional  orna- 
ments, which  might  be  changed  or  superseded  on  the 
laws  of  association,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  were  sup- 
posed to  have  been  framed.  This  it  is  of  importance  to 
mark,  for  the  very  same  have  been  the  sources,  and  are 
still  the  operating  causes,  of  inferiority  in  modern  archi- 
tecture. But  the  very  opposite  of  all  this  is  the  case.  Of 
this  system,  the  Greeks,  in  the  course  of  centuries,  had 
founded  what  was  conventional  upon  what  is  necessary  ; 
they  had  united  beauty  with  science,  by  combinations  the 
most  pleasing  to  taste  —  because  of  this  very  union  of 
effect  and  principle.  Architecture,  with  them,  was  thus 
not  more  conventional  than  is  every  part  of  knowledge 
not  immediately  derived  from  sense  —  not  more,  for  in- 
stance, than  geometry ;  and  its  modes,  therefore,  as  con- 
stituting one  whole,  became  immutable,  being  only  con- 
ventional, as  expressions  or  representatives  of  truth. 

This  harmony,  therefore,  between  the  intellectual  and 
the  merely  beautiful  —  the  very  perfection  of  the  science 
of  taste  —  the  Greeks  sought  not  by  perilous  experiments 
to  disturb.  Not  that  among  them  the  vigor  of  independent 
genius  was  cramped  ;  proper  latitude  of  composition  being 
allowed,  licentiousness  of  fancy  was  restrained  ;  each 
artist  thought,  in  due  subordination  to  the  principles  of  a 
system  which  he  knew  to  be  as  unchangeable  as  the  laws 
that  ensured  the  stability  of  his  edifice.  Hence,  in  every 
remain  of  Greek  art,  something  peculiar  is  discoverable  — 
some  exquisite  adaptation  of  parts  to  circumstances  —  to 
proportion  —  to  feeling  ;  but  this  never  obtrudes  —  never 
is  the  general  symmetry,  or  prevailing  character,  in  the 
least  interrupted.  Even  the  orders  observe  the  same  law 
of  composition.  They  are  but  variations  of  one  grand 
abstraction  of  stability  and  grace,  which  may  be  termed 
the  ideal  of  architecture.    Each  varies  from  another  in 


ARCHITECTURE. 


273 


detail,  but  the  result  is  one  and  the  same  concord  ;  the 
proportions  in  each  differ,  but  the  analogies  of  proportion 
are  in  all  cases  congenial.  Even  when,  by  addition  or 
absence  of  parts,  there  is  discriminative  form,  still  the 
same  final  result  of  purpose  or  propriety  is  evident.  In 
all,  the  same  master  lines  meet  the  eye,  guide  the  com- 
prehension over  all  divisions,  and  bind  the  entire  design 
into  one  grand  harmonious  whole.  Similar  means  and 
similar  harmonies  everywhere  occur ;  the  same  in  all  is 
the  last  impress  on  the  mind  of  symmetry  and  majestic 
repose  —  of  grace  and  dignity  —  of  steadfast  tranquilli- 
ty —  of  unlaboured  elegance  —  and  of  rich  simplicity. 

The  system  in  this,  its  perfect  wholeness,  the  Romans 
never  conceived,  and  upon  this  entireness  their  style  first 
broke.  They  appear  to  have  deemed  that  lightness  and 
grace,  here  the  great  objects  of  their  pursuit,  were  to  be 
attained  not  so  much  by  proportion  between  the  vertical 
and  horizontal,  as  by  comparative  slenderness  in  the  for- 
mer. Hence,  in  the  very  outset,  is  detected  a  poverty  in 
the  Roman  architecture,  even  in  the  midst  of  profuse 
ornament,  which,  as  we  advance,  continually  increases 
with  the  practice  whence  it  originated.  The  great  error 
was  a  constant  aim  to  lessen  the  diameter,  while  they 
increased  the  elevation,  of  the  columns  and  supporting 
members  generally— an  error,  as  remarked  by  Plutarch, 
c  to  a  Greek  eye '  perceptible  so  early  as  the  reign  of 
Domitian.  Hence  the  incongruities  of  the  Roman  orders, 
which  yet  are  mere  plagiarisms  from  the  Greek,  and  upon 
this  defective  principle. 

The  massive  simplicity  and  severe  grandeur  of  the 
ancient  Doric,  disappear  in  the  Roman,  the  characteristics 
of  the  order  being  frittered  down  into  a  multiplicity  of 
minute  members.  This  division  is  not  only  in  itself 
injurious  to  the  simple  idea  of  strength,  but  the  parts  are 


274 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


separately  composed  in  ignorance  of  the  primitive  inten- 
tion. To  their  two  more  refined  orders,  the  Ionic  and 
Corinthian,  the  Greeks  always  added  a  base,  to  unite 
them  sweetly  and  gracefully  with  the  plinth  step,  or  floor ; 
to  the  Doric,  this  accessory  was  always  denied,  that 
strong  contrast  might  lead  the  eye  at  once  from  the 
support  to  the  firm  position  of  the  vertical  shaft  —  thus 
apparently  still  more  securely  planted,  as  resting  imme- 
diately on  the  solid  platform  of  the  building.  In  opposi- 
tion to  these  obvious  principles,  the  Romans  used  the 
Doric  always  with  a  base,  composed,  too,  of  various 
members ;  while  in  the  capital  they  erred  still  more 
against  propriety.  The  Doric  capital  of  the  Greeks  is 
a  masterpiece  of  composition ;  —  formed  of  few  and  bold, 
yet  graceful  parts,  it  leads  by  degrees  of  increasing 
strength  to  the  surmounting  entablature,  which,  with  its 
triglyphs  and  sculptured  metopes,  seems  to  the  eye  yet 
more  ponderous  —  ready  to  crush  the  starved  and  flutter- 
ing members,  fillet  above  fillet,  which  compose  the  capital 
of  the  Roman  pillar.  The  Corinthian  is  the  only  order 
which  the  Romans  have  employed  with  almost  the  undi- 
minished grace  of  the  original ;  but  even  here  is  distinctly 
to  be  traced  the  pernicious  effects  of  their  system.  In 
the  Ionic,  they  have  left  comparatively  few  examples, 
while,  still  following  out  their  principle,  they  added  to 
the  length  of  the  shaft,  and  flattened  the  capital,  thus 
losing  much  of  the  simple  yet  stately  elegance  which 
distinguishes  this  order.  Their  own  Composite  is  in 
some  measure  a  combination  of  the  Ionic  and  the  Cor- 
inthian, having  the  volutes  of  the  former  and  the  foliage 
of  the  latter,  upon  which  it  is  anything  but  an  improve- 
ment, since  it  contradicts  the  character,  and  in  a  great 
degree  opposes  the  advantages,  of  the  primitive.  As  far, 
then,  as  concerns  the  invention  of  forms,  and  the  just 


ARCHITECTURE. 


275 


conception  of  the  elemental  modes  of  Greece,  the  Ro- 
mans failed.  Their  architecture  was  imperfect,  both  as 
a  system  of  symmetry,  and  as  a  science  founded  upon 
truth  and  upon  taste. 

But  when  their  labours  are  viewed  as  regards  the  prac- 
tice of  the  art,  their  merits  are  presented  under  a  far 
different  aspect.  Whether  the  magnitude,  the  utility,  the 
varied  combinations,  or  the  novel  and  important  evidences 
of  their  knowledge,  be  considered,  the  Romans,  in  their 
practical  works,  are  yet  unrivalled.  They  here  created 
their  own  models,  while  they  have  remained  examples  to 
their  successors.  Though  not  the  inventors  of  the  arch, 
they,  of  all  the  nations  of  antiquity,  first  discovered  and 
boldly  applied  its  powers ;  nor  is  there  one  dignified  prin- 
ciple in  its  use  which  they  have  not  elicited.  Rivers  are 
spanned  ;  the  sea  itself,  as  at  Ancona,  is  thus  enclosed 
within  the  cincture  of  masonry ;  nay,  streams  were  heav- 
ed into  air,  and,  borne  aloft  through  entire  provinces, 
poured  into  the  capital  their  floods  of  freshness,  and 
health.  The  self-balanced  dome,  extending  a  marble 
firmament  over  head,  the  proudest  boast  of  modern  skill, 
has  yet  its  prototype  and  its  superior  in  the  Pantheon  — 

Relic  of  nobler  days  and  noblest  arts ! 
Despoil'd,  yet  perfect,  with  thy  circle  spreads 
A  holiness  appealing  to  all  hearts  — 
To  art  a  model. 

The  same  stupendous  and  enduring  character  pervaded 
all  the  efforts  of  Roman  art,  even  in  those  instances 
where  more  ancient  principles  only  were  brought  into 
action.  Where  the  Greeks  were  forced  to  call  the  opera- 
tions of  nature  in  aid  of  the  weakness  of  art,  availing 
themselves  of  some  hollow  mountain  side  for  the  erection 
of  places  of  public  resort,  the  imperial  masters  of  Rome 
caused  such  mountains  to  be  reared  of  masonry,  within 


276  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

their  capital,  for  the  Theatre,  Amphitheatre,  and  Circus. 
Of  these  vast  structures,  where  assembled  multitudes 
might  sit  uncrowded,  the  Colosseum  —  the  mightiest  in- 
deed, yet  only  one  of  the  labours  of  the  reign  in  which  it 
was  raised  —  contains  more  solid  material,  brought  too 
from  far,  and  exquisitely  wrought,  than  all  the  works  of 
either  Louis  XIV.,  or  the  Czar  Peter  —  the  two- greatest 
builders  among  the  sovereigns  of  modern  times  : 

From  its  mass, 
Walls,  palaces,  half  cities,  have  been  rear'd; 
Yet  oft  the  enormous  skeleton  ye  pass, 
And  marvel  where  the  spoil  could  have  appear'd. 

Palaces — Temples — Baths— Porticos  — Arches  of  Tri- 
umph—  Commemorative  Pillars  —  Basilica,  or  Halls  of 
Justice  —  Fora,  or  Squares  —  Bridges  —  without  men- 
tioning the  astonishing  highways,  extending  to  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  empire  —  all  were  constructed  on  the 
same  grand  and  magnificent  plan.  The  art,  in  every 
part  of  its  practice,  partook  of  the  national  character 
of  the  people.  Its  applications  were  great,  substantial, 
and  useful  - —  beautiful  in  execution,  but  this  beauty 
dignified  yet  more  as  subservient  to  utility :  The  highest 
conceivable  grandeur  seemed  but  necessary,  as  commen- 
surate with  the  wants  and  the  durability  of  a  dominion 
which  was  to  be  universal  and  eternal.  Roman  art  has, 
in  these  respects,  a  character  almost  of  moral  dignity 
beyond  all  relics  of  antiquity.  The  records  of  their  dead, 
though  erections  of  more  equivocal  usefulness,  partake  of 
the  same  style,  and,  like  the  pyramids  of  Egyptian  kings, 
have  ceased  to  be  monuments  save  of  their  own  greatness. 
Some,  and  those  but  of  individuals,  or  even  a  woman's 
grave,  as  towers  of  strength  have  rolled  back  the  shock 
of  feudal  warfare  ;  and  the  tomb  of  an  emperor,  turned 
into  a  palace,  or  a  fortress,  still  overawes  the  city  of  the 
Caesars. 


ARCHITECTURE. 


277 


But,  alas  !  the  passing  briefness  of  all  things  sublunary  ! 
The  spirit's  homage  to  this  mightiness  of  mind  and  pow- 
er, is  due  only  to  the  labours  of  little  more  than  a  century 
and  a  half.  The  very  greatness  of  these  edifices  proved 
a  source  of  after  corruption,  by  withdrawing  attention 
from  the  delicacies  of  composition,  and  by  substituting 
brute  mass  for  the  refinements  of  science.  Even  under 
the  Antonines,  decline  from  the  age  of  Hadrian  is  per- 
ceptible —  though  more  in  taste  than  in  practice.  Under 
Commodus,  architecture  suffered  most  decided  degrada- 
tion —  another  proof  how  steadily  the  arts  reflect,  not 
only  the  mental,  but  the  moral  energies  of  the  times. 
The  downward  impulse  hurries  onwards,  occasionally 
stayed  by  the  personal  virtues  or  activities  of  the  reigning 
prince.  Severus  has  thus  left  evidence  how  far  his  age 
had  fallen,  and  yet  how  superior  to  those  that  follow  !  be- 
tween his  triumphal  arch  and  that  of  Titus,  how  great 
the  difference !  —  yet,  in  point  of  design,  far  less  than 
between  his  and  Constantino's.  The  last  splendours  of 
Roman  skill  were  elicited  by  the  talents  of  Dioclesian, 
and  great  appear  still  to  have  been  the  practical  resources 
of  architecture  —  greater  than  usually  admitted.  The 
circular  Hall  in  his  Baths  is  inferior  only  to  the  Pantheon, 
and  awakened  the  enthusiasm  of  Michael  Angelo ;  his 
Dalmatian  Palace  was  the  finest  building  undertaken  for 
twelve  succeeding  centuries.  Few  of  the  qualities  which 
can  ennoble  the  art,  as  an  object  of  taste,  survived  this 
period.  The  works  of  Constantine,  not  excepting  the 
founding  of  a  capital,  prove  how  complete  was  the  lapse, 
since  even  his  zeal  could  call  forth  only  attempts  to  un- 
graceful and  ineffective, 


24 


278 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  history  of  Architecture  still  to  be  considered, 
extends  through  fifteen  centuries  to  the  present  time. 
This  interval  may  be  divided  into  three  eras.  I.  Period 
of  the  circular  arch.  II.  Period  of  the  pointed  arch. 
III.  Revival  and  practice  of  classic  art.  The  theories 
so  abounding  in  this  particular  portion  of  the  subject, 
must  be  reviewed  as  in  themselves  forming  part  of  the 
information  which  the  reader  has  a  right  to  expect ;  but 
the  notice  will  be  brief,  the  narrative,  it  is  hoped,  enabling 
the  judgment  to  deduce  its  own  conclusions  from  facts, 
independently  of  all  opinion.  For  this  reason,  the  pre- 
ceding division  is  adopted,  characterised  only  by  the  style 
of  architecture,  without  reference  to  those  minute  distinc- 
tions and  disputes  about  names,  the  great  sources  of 
obscurity  and  unsettled  hypothesis  in  treating  of  the 
building  of  the  middle  ages.  It  may  be  remarked,  in 
limine,  that  the  term,  'Gothic  Architecture/  is  of  late 
invention,  and  appears  to  be  used  in  two  distinct,  or 
indeed  opposite  meanings.  First,  to  denote  the  whole 
system  of  architectural  erection  intervening  between 
the  decline  of  the  ancient  classic  modes,  and  their  re- 
appearance soon  after  the  revival  of  letters.  In  this 
sense,  it  is  usually  employed  as  expressive  of  something 
barbarous  and  unscientific.  In  the  second  place,  the 
phrase  is  employed  by  a  large  school  of  writers  and  ar- 
tists, to  denote  a  system  or  systems  of  art,  arising,  it  is 
acknowledged,  among  men  of  rude  cultivation  in  other 
respects,  yet  claiming  original  principles  of  invention, 
and  very  refined  rules  of  practice  —  so  far  even  as  to  be 
an  imitation  of  natural  prototypes  of  very  distant,  yet 
tasteful  associations.    Each  of  these  theories  exclusively 


ARCHITECTURE. 


279 


taken,  seems  to  be  disproved  by  the  course  of  history, 
when  all  preconceived  notions  are  laid  aside,  and  when 
art,  as  ought  ever  to  be  the  case,  is  fairly  made  its  own 
interpreter. 

I.  It  has  been  shown  that  the  Romans,  in  obtaining 
full  mastery  of  a  powerful  engine  in  building  —  the  arch, 
were  at  first  bold,  subsequently  lavish,  and,  it  will  appear, 
finally  barbarous,  in  its  application.  From  the  reigns 
even  of  the  early  Caesars,  a  tendency  may  be  traced  in 
their  architecture  to  become  great  in  mass,  but  little  in 
parts  —  to  lessen,  in  the  first  instance,  the  vertical  or  sup- 
porting members ;  and  in  the  second,  to  load  the  super- 
structure, or  supported  parts.  The  progress  of  corruption 
might  be  traced,  by  regular  steps,  from  vast  arches,  with 
groins  planted  on  a  single  Corinthian  column,  to  the 
arcades  of  the  palace  of  Dioclesian  at  Spalatro.  These 
still  are  left,  exhibiting  external  and  internal  ranges  of 
arches,  springing  directly  from  the  capitals  of  the  col- 
umns, without  any  intervening  entablature.  What  more, 
we  ask,  is  wanting  here,  to  one  of  the  most  decided 
characteristics  of  one  species,  at  least,  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, and  an  elemental  principle  in  all  kinds  ?  nothing, 
save  a  little  less  elegance  of  workmanship  in  the  supports, 
a  pier  substituted  for  the  column,  and  the  soffit  of  the 
arch  bevelled  instead  of  being  square  ;  steps  successively 
apparent  in  posterior  remains.  Surely,  then,  it  is  carry- 
ing theory  beyond  all  moderate  limits,  to  contend  for  a 
separate  origin  of  the  system,  when  the  principles  of 
Gothic  building  are  thus  distinctly  recognizable  in  a  cor- 
ruption of  classic  modes,  at  an  era  while  yet  vigorous 
practice  prevailed,  with  resources  undiminished  for  its 
support.  This  corruption,  indeed,  evidently  proceeded, 
not  so  much  from  inefficiency,  as  from  too  eager  pursuit 
of  novelty  — this  too,  unrestrained  by  the  immediate 


280 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


presence  of  more  simple  forms ;  for,  in  the  baths  of  the 
same  emperor,  appears  a  less  licentious  taste.  For  the 
exterior,  indeed,  such  Gothic  arcades  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  soon  imitated ;  but  for  the  interior,  their  adoption 
was  almost  immediate.  These  intermediate  steps  it  is 
unnecessary  farther  to  pursue  at  present. 

The  era  of  Constantine,  though  justly  regarded  as 
marking  the  final  disappearance  of  the  last  lingering  rays 
of  ancient  taste,  proves  yet  a  most  important  epoch  in  the 
history  of  architecture.  The  reception  of  Christianity  as 
the  religion  of  the  empire,  not  only  changed  to  a  very 
great  extent,  the  entire  frame  and  aspect  of  society,  but 
in  a  particular  manner  influenced  the  practical  art  of 
building.  As  in  the  heathen  temple  was  traced  the  great 
source  of  perfection  in  ancient  art,  so  in  the  Christian 
church  then  established,  is  to  be  found  the  origin  of  those 
modes  and  forms,  which,  for  so  many  centuries,  guided 
modern  practice.  But  the  former  structure  was  one  of 
external  magnificence  only ;  internally,  it  was  neither  in- 
tended, nor,  unaltered,  adapted,  to  accommodate  large 
assemblies.  In  the  new  religion,  this  became  the  prima- 
ry object  in  its  places  of  worship  :  while  the  early  Chris- 
tians refused  to  make  use  of  the  '  houses  of  idols/  In 
this  emergency,  there  remained  only  one  course  —  to 
convert  the  most  capacious  of  unobjectionable  buildings 
into  churches.  Of  all  these,  the  Basilicon  presented,  not 
only  no  difficulties  as  having  been  desecrated,  but  also 
was  directly  accommodated  to  the  necessities  of  the  case. 
The  ancient  Basilicon  was  a  building  of  great  extent, 
adjoining  the  forum  or  great  square,  in  every  city,  serving 
at  once  the  purposes  of  an  exchange  for  the  transaction 
of  business,  of  a  court  for  the  administration  of  justice, 
and  of  a  place  for  general  resort.  The  exterior  was 
adorned  with  porticoes  more  or  less  magnificent,  while 


ARCHITECTURE. 


281 


internally  it  was  separated  lengthwise  by  two  or  four  ran- 
ges of  columns,  into  three  or  five  longitudinal  divisions, 
according  to  its  width.  Of  these,  the  middle  one  was 
the  largest,  open  to  the  top,  and  uncovered ;  the  side 
ones  were  smaller,  roofed  in,  with  galleries  opening  into 
the  centre  compartment,  and  to  which  access  was  had  by 
stairs  at  the  two  extremities.  Under  an  arched  niche, 
usually  at  the  extremity  of  the  central  division,  was  a 
tribunal  for  the  judge,  exactly  in  the  situation  where  the 
Christian  altar  was  afterwards  placed.  From  the  whole 
description,  it  is  evident,  that  the  only  alteration  necessa- 
ry to  convert  this  edifice  into  a  complete  church,  with  its 
nave  and  lateral  aisles,  was  to  place  a  roof  over  the  mid- 
dle portion.  Thus  the  first  Christian  churches  were 
formed  ;  and  hence  many  of  those  in  Rome  still  retain 
the  name  of  Basilicon.  Subsequently,  the  transepts  were 
added,  to  imitate  the  cross,  though  this  form  seems  to 
have  been  very  early  known  in  the  East. 

The  general  form  of  the  church  being  thus  determin- 
ed, more  through  chance  than  design,  yet  with  great 
convenience  and  propriety,  this  accidental  form  was 
adhered  to  in  the  subsequent  erections  for  sacred  purpos- 
es ;  but  with  certain  internal  arrangements,  modified  by 
the  lessened  resources  of  the  art,  the  prevailing  taste,  and 
the  novel  exigencies  of  the  case.  Instead  of  the  horizon- 
tal entablature  resting  upon  the  internal  ranges  of  pillars, 
as  in  the  more  classical  Basilicon,  churches  were  con- 
structed internally  of  arcades,  the  arches  resting  upon 
the  capitals  of  the  columns.  These  latter  were  torn 
from  more  ancient  edifices,  but  combined,  and  often  with 
considerable  effect,  by  the  ruder  efforts  of  existing  art. 
Thus,  with  columns  for  supports,  united  with  ranges 
of  semicircular  arches  abutting  against  the  walls,  we  soon 
find  the  perfect  Gothic  church  established. 
24* 


282 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


This  style  of  building,  recommended  at  once  by  con- 
venience and  necessity,  rapidly  spread  over  the  whole  of 
Italy  and  the  Empire,  for  Constantinople  was  erected 
from  pilfered  monuments,  which,  when  taken  to  pieces 
and  transported  thither,  were  subsequently  set  up  in  a 
most  confused  and  imperfect  manner.  When  the  sup- 
porting columns  could  no  longer  be  obtained  from  ancient 
structures,  or  where  this  resource  had  never  existed,  the 
whole  was  to  be  reared  from  the  foundation.  Here  it 
would  soon  be  discovered  that  a  cylindrical,  square,  or 
bevelled  pier,  without  diminution,  would  be  a  fitter  and 
more  easily  erected  support  for  the  arch.  From  the  de- 
sire of  stability,  or  the  imperfection  of  skill,  this  pier,  of 
whatever  form,  begins  gradually  to  decrease  in  altitude, 
while  it  becomes  more  massive,  still  with  a  base  and  ca- 
pital palpable  though  rude  imitations  of  the  same,  mem- 
bers of  the  classic  column. 

In  this  state  was  the  art,  when  Italy  fell  under  the 
power  of  barbarian  conquerors.  This  style  they  adopted 
in  their  own  buildings ;  for,  after  conquest  was  secure, 
they  patronised  the  arts  of  their  subjects,  introducing  a 
still  greater  profusion  of  ornament,  rudely  executed,  and 
in  worse  design.  Yet  the  whole  effect  of  such -works  is 
often  not  without  grandeur.  Beginning  with  Rome,  we 
might  instance,  from  our  own  observation,  a  continuous 
series  of  monuments,  of  a  style  such  as  now  described, 
still  remaining  in  different  parts  of  Italy,  especially  the 
Gothic  capitals  of  Lombardy,  as  Ravenna,  Verona,  Pavia, 
introducing  the  early  revival  in  Pisa  and  the  cities  of 
Tuscany.  Such  a  survey  would  unite  the  labours  of 
Metrodorus,  the  first  Christian  architect  under  Constan- 
ne,  with  those  of  Buschetto  and  Diotisalvi,  in  the  com- 
mencement of  the  eleventh  century,  leading  to  the  men- 
tion of  various  architects  of  the  Gothic  kingdom,  as 


ARCHITECTURE. 


283 


Ciriades,  of  Rome;  Aloisius,  of  Padua,  author  of  the 
famous  tomb  of  Theodoric,  called  the  Rotunda  of  Raven- 
na ;  St  Germain,  of  France ;  St  Avitus,  of  Clermont ; 
Agricola,  of  Chalons  ;  Romnaldus,  of  France  ;  Tietland, 
of  Germany ;  with  others.  Such  an  inquiry,  however, 
is  not  here  necessary,  inasmuch  as  it  must  now  appear  ob- 
vious, that  the  style  just  described  might  be  termed  Gothic, 
as  practised  by  the  mixed  race  of  invaders,  who,  under  the 
name  of  Goths,  subdued  Italy  ;  but  that  such  a  style 
could  not  have  been  introduced  by  them  from  the  forests 
of  Germany  and  the  wilds  of  Pannonia. 

From  Italy,  religion,  and  consequently  ecclesiastical 
building,  extended  over  the  rest  of  Europe.  In  Fiance 
and  Germany,  the  names  enumerated  above,  with  the 
works  still  remaining  there,  might  be  examined  in  cor- 
roboration of  the  fact,  that  the  circular  arch  prevailed  at 
the  same  time  in  these  countries.  But  as  of  most  im- 
portance, attention  is  better  limited  to  British  art  in  the 
middle  age.  This  species  of  building  is  distinguished, 
in  native  antiquities,  by  the  appellation  of  Saxon  or  Nor- 
man,—  displaying,  as  characteristics,  low,  thick,  and 
rotund  pillars,  with  bases  and  capitals  often  fantastically 
carved,  with  heavy  semicircular  arches,  springing  directly 
from  the  top,  corresponding  exactly  with  the  corrupted 
Roman.  Regarding  the  propriety  of  this  designation, 
however,  doiibts  may  reasonably  be  entertained,  since  it 
by  no  means  certainly  appears  that  either  the  Saxons  or 
Normans  were  the  introducers. 

There  is  evidence  that  sacred  edifices  existed  in  Bri- 
tain prior  to  the  Saxon  invasion;  and,  indeed,, when 
Constantine  wrote  rescripts  to  the  various  provinces,  his 
own  birthplace  would  not  be  omitted  among  those  en- 
joined to  erect1  and  repair  churches.  It  would  appear, 
also,  that  the  Saxons  were  attached  to  wooden  erections, 


284 


THE  FINK  ARTS. 


as  is  expressed  by  the  verb  getymbrian,  to  build,  —  a 
similar  analogy,  from  the  same  cause,  as  in  Greek, 
where  the  word  wood  is  used  to  denote  the  constituent 
matter,  or  material,  of  anything  —  as  4  the  wood,'  mean- 
ing the  matter,  of  \  an  argument/  It  is  probable,  then, 
that  the  stone  buildings  of  the  Saxons  were  rather  copied 
from  existing  edifices  among  the  conquered  people,  con- 
sequently direct  imitations  of  the  parent  corruptions  of 
Italy.  This  last  fact,  the  only  one  of  real  importance  in 
the  present  case,  is  not  left  to  conjecture ;  for,  in  the 
accounts  of  the  earliest  stone  structures  of  the  seventh 
century,  it  is  said  they  were  erected,  in  the  original 
phrase,  '  more  Romanorum,'  in  the  style  of  the  Romans, 
that  is,  the  style  already  described.  Between  the  Saxon, 
or  supposed  Saxon,  and  Norman,  there  exists  no  differ- 
ence, except  in  the  superior  magnificence  of  the  latter  — 
a  circumstance  accounted  for  by  the  progress  of  society. 

It  has  thus  been  established,  that  the  style  of  building 
with  circular  arches  is  clearly  a  corruption  from  the  an- 
cient classic  forms.  With  little  distinctive  change,  or 
characteristic  difference,  this  mode  was  practised  through- 
out Europe  during  nine  centuries. 

II.  During  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  an 
innovation  upon  the  long  monotony  of  the  circular  arch 
begins  to  appear  and  to  be  perfected.  This  was  the  in- 
troduction of  the  pointed,  or  lancet  Gothic,  to  which 
species  the  term  is  more  strictly  limited.  The  origin 
and  progress  of  the  pointed  arch,  has  been  rendered  one 
of  the  most  complicated  problems  in  the  history  of  archi- 
tecture. The  subjects  of  discussion  here  involve  two 
questions  —  first,  Whence  and  by  whom  this  style  was 
introduced  I  secondly,  From  what  prototype  the  idea 
was  originally  derived? 


ARCHITECTURE. 


285 


On  the  former  of  these  subjects,  the  various  conflicting 
opinions  may  be  arranged  under  two  general  heads :  that 
the  proper  Gothic,  or  pointed  arch,  had  its  origin  in  the 
cathedral  buildings  of  England,  whence  the  knowledge 
and  practice  of  this  style  was  diffused  throughout 
Europe  during  the  thirteenth  century ;  or  that  this  ar- 
chitecture is  of  Oriental  growth,  and  was  brought  into 
Europe  by  the  Crusaders.  The  author  of  the  first  sys- 
tem we  believe  was  Walpole ;  but  it  has  since  been 
adopted  by  Britton,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  English 
antiquaries.  The  second  opinion  has  been  ably  main- 
tained by  Lord  Aberdeen,  and  is  that  more  generally 
adopted  in  other  countries.  It  is  not  here  possible  to 
enter  into  the  details  of  the  controversy ;  the  latter  view 
certainly  appears  to  be  supported  by  the  analogy  both  of 
history  and  of  the  arts.  This,  in  absence  of  positive 
evidence,  and  with  similar  buildings  of  equal  age  and 
character  in  France,  affords  far  more  conclusive  argu- 
ment than  any  to  be  derived  from  the  greater  perfection 
which  the  style,  comparatively  speaking,  displays  in 
England,  when  the  extent  of  the  country  and  the  number 
of  fine  buildings  are  considered.  But  individual  edifices, 
especially  in  Germany,  are  not  only  equally  ancient,  but 
more  splendid.  Our  pretensions  to  exclusive  invention, 
under  circumstances  so  notorious,  that,  in  Italy,  the 
Gothic  is  more  frequently  styled  *  Tedesco,'  or  1  German,1 
have  exposed  the  national  information  in  matters  of  art, 
to  the  severe  but  merited  animadversions  of  foreign  wri- 
ters. The  assumption,  however,  appears  to  have  little 
connexion  with  national  opinion,  having  arisen  among 
antiquaries  whose  almost  sole  study  had  been  English 
building,  or,  at  least,  who  had  viewed  the  history  of  Ar- 
chitecture under  this  peculiar  mode  alone.  In  this 
respect,  extensive  research  and  elegant  erudition  enabled 


286 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


Lord  Aberdeen  to  bring  to  the  subject  every  requisite  of 
decision ;  and  were  we  inclined  to  place  faith  in  any  ex- 
clusive theory  of  introduction,  it  would  be  that  which  his 
Lordship  has  so  ably  advocated,  in  maintaining  the  East- 
ern origin  of  the  Gothic  or  pointed  arch. 

From  what  exemplar  this  form  was  conceived,  or  by 
what  prototype  suggested,  has,  in  the  second  place,  exer- 
cised speculation  to  a  wide  extent.  The  following  are 
the  principal  opinions:  1.  Theory  of  Warburton, — 
that  natural  groves  supplied  the  primitive  idea,  the  trunks, 
branches,  and  foliage  of  the  trees  being  represented  in 
the  pillars,  arches,  and  tracery  of  the  Gothic.  2.  The 
system  of  Sir  James  Hall,  —  that  the  whole  style,  in  all 
its  varieties,  is  but  an  imitation  of  wickerwork,  —  an 
opinion  frequently,  though  very  improperly,  considered  as 
a  modification  of  the  former  :  it  is  independent,  and  has 
been  very  ingeniously  followed  out  in  detail.  3.  Theory 
of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  remarkable  at  least  in  its  pro- 
pounder,  —  that  the  Free  Masons  were  the  inventors  of 
the  pointed  arch.  4.  Opinions  of  many  German  and 
Continental  writers, — that  this  arch  is  but  an  imitation 
of  the  Egyptian  and  Indian  pyramid.  5.  Hypothesis, 
first  incidentally  proposed  by  Bentham,  subsequently 
methodized  and  illustrated  by  Dr  Milner,  and  pretty  gen- 
erally received,  —  that  the  intersection  of  semicircular 
arches  forming  intermediate  pointed  ones,  gave  the  primi- 
tive model.  This  interlacing  of  arches  is  a  common 
ornament  in  buildings  of  the  old  Gothic,  already  explain- 
ed ;  it  occurs  frequently  in  relievo,  and,  if  we  recollect 
rightly,  also  with  disengaged  columns  in  several  of  the 
facades  of  old  churches  in  Italy.  Durham  and  Lincoln 
cathedrals,  likewise  ecclesiastical  remains  in  Scotland,  as 
Kelso  Abbey,  furnish  examples.  6.  Opinion  of  Mr 
Whittaker  and  others,  —  that  pointed  Architecture  was 


ARCHITECTURE. 


287 


known  to,  and  practised  by,  the  Romans,  early  under  the 
imperial  government. 

Such  are  the  leading  theories  on  this  interesting  sub- 
ject ;  an  examination  of  the  facts  would  lead  to  a  history 
of  the  ecclesiastical  architecture  of  a  great  portion  of 
Europe  for  upwards  of  three  centuries.  In  France,  the 
pointed  arch  was  early  introduced  ;  but  the  light  style  of 
Gothic  architecture  was  not  generally  carried  to  such 
perfection  as  in  Germany  and  Flanders,  having  been 
sooner  affected  by  the  introduction  of  the  Italian  taste. 
The  German  style  was  perfected  about  the  close  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  and  subsequently  appears  to  have  un- 
dergone little  variation,  even  to  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teenth, thus  retaining  the  elegance  of  the  best  age  in  the 
art  much  longer.  Compared  with  our  own,  the  best 
examples  have  much  the  same  character,  with  lighter 
forms  and  richer  tracery,  —  but  of  such  examples  there 
are  fewer  in  proportion  than  with  us.  In  Italy,  the 
pointed  arch  never  obtained.  It  is  found,  indeed,  in 
Venice  and  Milan,  and  occasionally  elsewhere  ;  but  the 
style  to  which  it  gave  birth  is  not  characteristic  of  Italy, 
where  the  early  churches  are  of  the  old  or  circular,  and 
the  more  modern  of  the  mixed  or  Lombard  style.  In 
England,  four  general  periods  mark  so  many  changes  of 
Gothic. 

1.  From  1235  to  1272,  including  the  reigns  from  the 
accession  of  Stephen  to  that  of  Edward  L,  termed  Ear- 
ly, English,  Simple,  and  Lancet  Gothic,  characterised 
by  long  narrow  openings,  with  a  very  sharp  high  arch. 
Early  part  of  the  period  shows  the  gradual  introduction 
of  the  pointed  style. 

2.  From  1272  to  1377,  to  the  accession  of  Richard  IL 
This  has  been  designated  the  age  of  the  Pure  Gothic, 
or  Decorated  English,  being  more  highly  ornamented 


288 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


than  the  former,  but  without  exuberance ;  especially 
characterised  by  an  arch  which  circumscribes  an  equila- 
teral triangle,  hence  proposed  to  be  named,  Triangular 
Gothic. 

3.  From  1377  to  1509,  terminating  with  the  accession 
of  Henry  VIII.  This  constitutes  the  age  of  the  Florid 
Gothic,  which,  between  these  dates,  underwent  a  succes- 
sion of  changes  ;  first,  from  aspiring,  to  flatly-pointed  and 
obtuse  arches,  with  large  daylights,  in  panels  and  straight 
mullions,  instead  of  tracery ;  hence  the  names  Obtuse 
and  Perpendicular  English ;  becomes  more  and  more 
ornamented ;  ceilings  of  the  richest  and  most  complicated 
tracery,  with  pendents  ;  Henry  VII. 's  chapel  fine  speci- 
men. 

4.  From  1509  to  1625  ;  when  the  reign  of  Charles  I. 
introduces  Inigo  Jones,  and  the  revival  of  ancient  archi- 
tecture. First  part  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth  a 
continuation  of  the  Florid  Gothic  ;  subsequently  the  de- 
signs of  Holbein,  and  of  the  Italian  artist  employed  by 
that  monarch,  entirely  ruined  the  Gothic,  introducing  a 
most  barbarous  mixture  of  Roman,  Italian,  and  Gothic. 
In  the  succeeding  reigns,  a  stiff  and  most  unmeaning 
style  arose ;  and,  in  Scotland,  we  trace  a  near  approach, 
if  not  in  magnitude,  at  least  in  excellence,  to  the  English 
examples  of  Gothic  ;  while  the  fortunes  of  the  art  are 
found  to  assimilate  to  its  history  in  Germany,  in  as  far  as 
a  character  of  great  perfection  was  early  formed,  and 
longer  preserved,  than  in  the  south.  It  must  appear  a 
singular  proof  of  hasty  and  inconclusive  inquiry,  that, 
while  an  English  origin  has  been  claimed  for  the  pointed 
arch,  its  elements  are  found  of  a  date  more  ancient  in 
Scottish  ecclesiastical  buildings,  not  to  mention  those  on 
the  Continent. 


ARCHITECTURE. 


289 


In  opposition  to  all  the  preceding  theories,  we  consider 
the  system  of  pointed  architecture,  or  that  properly  de- 
nominated Gothic,  to  have  arisen  independently,  though 
almost  contemporaneously,  among  the  nations  of  Europe 
most  conspicuous  for  the  cultivation  of  this  peculiar  style. 
In  this  we  are  borne  out  by  a  series  of  monuments  in 
each  country,  showing  the  progressive  rise  and  introduc- 
tion of  the  pointed  arch,  from  the  form  of  two  long 
stones,  placed  on  supports,  and  meeting  at  top  —  a  con- 
trivance as  still  visible  in  the  walls  of  Mycenae,  of  three 
thousand  years'  standing,  up  to  the  finished  lancet  arch, 
as  in  Salisbury  cathedral.  Or,  granting  even  the  East- 
ern introduction  of  the  arch —  and  here  the  monuments 
are  of  very  doubtful  antiquity,*  —  what  does  this  prove 
with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  system?  —  Absolutely 
nothing.  This  knowledge  alone  would  not  go  further  to 
enable  the  architect  to  construct  a  Gothic  cathedral,  than 
would  one  of  the  voussoirs  in  teaching  him  the  properties 
of  the  arch  itself.  The  system  is  one  entire  and  inde- 
pendent whole,  in  which  the  pointed  arch  is  merely  an 
instrument  subservient  to  principles,  in  consequence  of 
which,  if  not  invented,  it  was  at  least  improved  and  rend- 
ered perfect.  In  this  light  the  subject  has  too  seldom 
been  viewed  :  a  light  which  places  Gothic  architecture  in 
true  and  dignified  position  of  an  independent  branch 
of  art,  governed  by  its  own  precepts  of  convenience,  sta- 
bility, and  ornament. 

When,  in  consequence  of  an  extraordinary  out-break- 
ing of  religious  zeal  and  enthusiasm,  an  astonishing 
change  was  wrought  in  the  frame  of  European  society, 

*  Since  expressing  our  opinion,  in  an  early  part  of  the  volume, 
on  the  doubtful  antiquity  of  Indian  architecture,  we  have  perceiv- 
ed, with  pleasure,  that  Bishop  Heber's  observations  confirm  the 
inference  we  had  ventured  to  draw  from  the  analogies  oi  art. 

25 


290 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


one  of  the  first  impulses  was  to  provide,  in  those  coun- 
tries hitherto  comparatively  ignorant  of  the  arts,  more 
suitable  edifices  for  the  services  of  that  religion,  in  whose 
cause  multitudes  were  shedding,  or  ready  to  shed,  their 
blood  in  distant  and  unknown  regions.  Thus  the  Cru- 
sades were,  but  not  as  usually  supposed,  the  cause  of  the 
introduction  of  art.  They  operated  as  one  of  those 
moral  springs  of  action  by  which  the  arts,  as  the  course 
of  human  life,  are  found  to  be  directed. 

Under  such  impressions,  when  the  architect  contem- 
plated the  ancient  structures,  the  principle  of  convenience 
would  at  once  suggest  the  necessity  of  heightening  their 
low  arches,  and  decreasing  their  enormous  supports,  by 
which  light  was  obstructed,  and  space  filled  up.  He  saw, 
however,  these  efforts  could  not  be  accomplished  on  the 
old  methods  :  —  here  the  principle  of  stability  —  no  ab- 
stract theory,  but  the  knowledge  of  the  practical  builder 
—  taught  him,  that  by  elevating  the  crown  of  the  arch, 
and  thus  removing  in  part  the  lateral  pressure,  both  ob- 
jects would  be  accomplished ;  for  while  height  was  gain- 
ed, the  weight  would  be  thrown  more  into  the  perpendic- 
ular, and  consequently  would  remain  firm  with  diminished 
support.  The  principle  once  introduced,  was  carried 
even  to  frightful  boldness.  But  again,  though  the  lateral 
pressure  was  removed  from  the  arcade  itself,  abutment 
was  still  to  be  provided  at  the  extremities  and  side-walls. 
Hence  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  buttress.  This 
indeed  existed  in  the  old  Gothic ;  but  here  the  feature 
assumed  a  novel  appearance.  The  arches  being  placed 
high,  required  additional  altitude  to  be  added,  as  a  coun- 
terbalance, at  the  opposing  point ;  thus  the  buttress  was 
converted  into  a  turret  or  pinnacle,  susceptible  of  every 
varied  form  which  it  afterwards  received,  when  the  desire 
of  ornament,  without  the  guidance  of  taste,  wandered 


ARCHITECTURE, 


291 


into  every  maze  of  fantasy.  Thus  the  whole  system 
depended  upon  principle  —  neither  rising,  like  an  exhala- 
tion, in  consequence  of  imported  knowledge,  nor  emula- 
ting some  remote  association  or  model,  but  by  the  slow 
and  gradual  process  of  experience. 

The  Gothic  cathedral,  thus  contemplated  in  its  native 
character  and  principles  —  established  in  unmoved  secu- 
rity by  the  very  agency  of  those  forces  which  tend  most 
directly  to  destruction,,  displays  an  evidence  of  science, 
perhaps,  when  the  times  are  considered,  the  most  wonder- 
ful in  the  whole  history  of  intelligence.  Never  have  the 
stereometric  precepts  of  building  —  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult branches  of  the  art,  been  better  exhibited  than  in 
these  piles.  Mass  counteracts  mass, — the  very  connec- 
tion of  downward  efforts  upholds  the  reed-like  column, 
and  hangs  on  high  the  ponderous  vault.  Self-balanced, 
the  entire  system  contains  within  itself  the  essence  of  its 
own  existence  in  the  chain  of  means  and  end,  of  minute 
contrivance,  and  of  one  purpose.  Yet  amid  all  this  no 
effort  is  apparent,  even  while  the  mind  starts  at  the  power 
of  its  own  ingenuity  over  the  properties  of  matter,  and 
the  laws  of  nature  —  the  artist  seems  to  sport  with  his 
subject,  to  tempt  the  prostration  of  his  airy  fabrics.  Here 
come  into  aid  the  principles  of  Gothic  ornament,  than 
which  nothing  pertaining  to  the  style  more  merits  admira- 
tion, whether  as  enabling  the  architect  to  extend  the  fan- 
tasy of  his  plans,  or  still  more  as  essentially  producing 
those  effects  which  these  plans  contemplate.  In  no  sys- 
tem of  architecture,  the  Grecian  not  even  excepted,  do 
the  ornamental,  so  completely  integrate  and  harmonize 
with  the  necessary  modes.  Ornament  could  not  here  be 
removed  without  destruction  both  of  beauty  and  stability  ; 
it  strengthens,  yet  conceals  the  necessity  of  support;  and, 
like  the  garniture  of  herbage,  and  flower,  and  twining 


292  THE  FINE  ARTS. 

> 

plant,  upon  the  rugged  face  of  earth,  it  spreads  to  the 
delighted  eye  its  mazy  error,  where  would  else  be  only  a 
frightful  and  unformed  mass  of  nodding  masonry. 

Such  are  the  merits  of  Gothic  architecture,  examined 
in  itself,  and  in  reference  to  the  times  which  gave  it  birth. 
Apart  from  these  considerations,  viewed  as  the  object  of 
refined  perception  or  cultivated  taste,  the  entire  system  is 
defective.  In  architecture,  pleasurable  emotion  arises 
from  a  two-fold  cause  —  the  modes,  and  the  associations 
of  the  art.  In  regard  to  the  former,  it  may  be  laid  down 
as  an  universal  precept  of  taste,  that  in  architecture,  of 
all  the  arts,  according  to  the  exhibition  of  principle,  and 
to  the  facility  with  which  the  mind  conceives  design,  and 
traces  intention,  will  be  the  mental  pleasure  produced  by 
the  work.  This  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  exalted 
feeling  in  Greek  art,  which,  grounded  upon  obvious  prin- 
ciple, consonant  with  natural  appearances,  and  pursuing 
beauty  as  a  final  aim,  fills  the  mind  with  delight  and  ad- 
miration. In  Gothic  architecture,  all  this  is  reversed :  its 
first  principle  is,  to  conceal  all  principle ;  to  dazzle  and 
to  surprise  by  effects  seemingly  at  variance  with  all  the 
usual  harmonies  of  things.  Hence,  on  entering  a  Gothic 
edifice,  though  the  mind,  at  first,  be  strongly  affected  by 
the  magnitude  and  daring  arrangement  of  the  forms, 
where 

 the  tall  pile, 

Whose  ancient  pillars  rear  their  marble  heads, 

Bearing  aloft  the  arch'd  and  pond'rous  roof, 

By  its  own  weight  stands  steadfast  and  immoveable ; 

yet  neither  the  judgment  nor  the  fancy  experiences  those 
continually  increasing  emotions  of  delight  which  a  Gre- 
cian building  inspires.  Again,  the  associations  connected 
with  Gothic  structures  are  temporary,  and,  in  great  meas- 
ure, local.    They  are  dependent  on  our  assurance  of  an- 


ARCHITECTURE. 


293 


iiquity.  Remove  from  such  their  antique  reminiscences, 
and  venerable  traditions,  and  they  are  despoiled  of  all,  or 
good  part,  of  their  power  over  the  imagination.  With 
religious  Gothic,  our  associations  are  more  congenial ; 
the  holiness  of  the  sentiment  mingles  its  permanency 
even  with  the  abstract  forms  ;  we  love  the  very  semblance 
of  the  place, 

Where ,  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault. 
The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise  ! 

But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  effect  is  accidental, 
not  intrinsic ;  for  decidedly  the  most  impressive  interiors 
in  Europe  are  those  in  churches  on  classic  models.  To 
such  style  we  are,  indeed,  not  accustomed  ;  yet  certain 
it  is,  the  first  Christian  hymn,  when  Christianity  had  now 
obtained  a  temple,  rose  to  heaven  from  amid  the  beauteous 
majesty  of  the  Grecian  orders.  Sublime  associations, 
how  much  more  in  unison  with  the  simple  grandeur  of 
the  reformed  service,  than  the  austerity  and  superstitious 
gloom  of  Gothic  erection  ! 

As  a  system,  then,  adapted  to  its  own  age  —  as  possess- 
ing independent,  if  not  dignified,  principles,  we  consider 
the  pure  Gothic,  as  now  described,  as  one  of  the  most 
singular  and  ingenious  modes  of  architectonic  science. 
But  in  its  revived  and  modern  application  no  useful  pur- 
pose can  be  served,  whether  of  good  taste  or  legitimate 
effect. 

III.  Having  thus  considered,  at  some  length,  the  only 
original  and  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  middle  age ;  the  revival  of  classic  forms, 
as  already  described,  and  therefore  offering  little  of  nov- 
elty, seems  to  require  here  only  brief  notice.  Indeed,  to 
render  a  detailed  account  interesting,  would  introduce 
discussions  too  lengthened  for  our  limits,  on  the  present 
state  of  the  art  in  the  different  countries  of  Europe. 
25* 


294 


THE   FINE  ARTS. 


So  early  as  the  commencement  of  the  eleventh  centu- 
ry, the  Italians  began  to  depart  from  the  ungraceful  style 
of  the  first  period ;  a  departure  which,  if  not  a  renova- 
tion, was  at  least  an  improvement,  in  some  measure 
founded  upon  closer  conceptions  of  ancient  art,  and  with 
the  Roman  orders,  though  improperly  applied.  This 
style,  heavy,  highly  decorated,  but  not  unimpressive,  con- 
tinued to  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  has 
been  named  the  Italian.  Its  principal  masters  were  the 
sculptors  already  mentioned  as  belonging  to  the  period. 
With  the  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  century,  a  new 
and  far  higher  school  arose,  which,  though  far  from  pure, 
was  yet  much  improved  ;  and  would  have  been  still  more 
so,  had  not  its  patrons  been  chiefly  painters,  too  ready  to 
aspire  to  the  bold  and  peculiar  effects  of  their  own  art. 
Bramante,  the  first  architect  of  St  Peter's,  Da  Vinci,  Ra- 
phael, Julio  Romano,  and,  above  all,  Michael  Angelo, 
were  the  masters  of  this  era.  The  last  mentioned  mighty 
name,  here,  as  in  all  the  arts,  created  his  own  style : 
robust,  even  to  the  abuse  of  strength ;  incorrect,  and 
sometimes  barbarous,  in  detail  ;  in  general  effect,  always 
grand  and  original.  In  St  Peter's,  with  many  defects, 
and  still  greater  beauties,  he  has  left  a  monument  of  his 
genius,  the  most  glorious  structure  that  now  adorns  the 
face  of  the  earth,  unequalled  in  extent  as  in  science. 

Yes,  thou,  of  temples  old  or  altars  new, 

Standest  alone,  with  nothing  like  to  thee  — 

Worthiest  of  God,  the  holy  and  the  true. 

Since  Zion's  desolation,  when  that  He 

Forsook  his  former  city,  what  could  be 

Of  earthly  structures,  in  his  honor  piled, 

Of  a  sublimer  aspect  ?  Majesty, 

Power,  glory,  strength,  and  beauty,  tl/ere  are  aisled. 

Great  as  was  this  school,  much  was  yet  wanting  to  re- 
trieve the  golden  purity  of  ancient  art ;  and  this,  in  the 


ARCHITECTURE. 


295 


succeeding  century,  was  added  by  Palladio,  so  far  at  least, 
as  the  severe  majesty  of  the  primitive  modes  could  be 
recovered  from  a  Roman  writer,  and  by  the  study  of  Ro- 
man exemplars.  Palladio  is  refined,  rather  than  ner- 
vous, —  elegant,  rather  than  grand ;  but  of  all  the  mod- 
ern masters,  he  is  the  most  chaste  in  design  and  orna- 
ment, prior  to  more  recent  knowledge  of  the  fountain  of 
all  excellence  —  the  remains  of  Greece.  His  school  was 
numerous,  at  least  the  masters  who  followed  out  his  prin- 
ciples ;  which,  spreading  over  Europe,  firmly  established 
the  Roman  style,  banishing  a  bastard  species  of  Roman 
Gothic,  by  which  both  systems  had  been  disgraced,  and 
their  characteristic  distinctions  confounded.  Of  the  Pal- 
ladian,  or  reformed  school,  Bernini  was  the  last  disciple 
of  genius ;  his  circular  colonnade,  in  front  of  St  Peter's, 
is  worthy  of  its  site.  With  him,  and  the  conceits  of  Bor- 
romimi,  Italian  architecture  may  almost  be  said  to  have 
ceased.  In  France,  the  two  Mansards,  during  the  build- 
ing reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  have  left  heavy  imitations  of  the 
Michael-Angelesque  style  ;  still,  to  the  artist  writers  of 
that  country,  the  art  owes  much.  It  is  there  more  regu- 
larly studied  than  in  any  other  country  in  Europe  ;  and  in 
one  specimen,  the  faoade  of  the  Louvre,  the  grandest 
excellence  has  been  attained ;  but  the  general  character 
of  national  building  is  too  fluttering,  wanting  repose  and 
majesty.  From  the  two  schools,  the  following  ten  have 
been  selected,  under  the  name  of  the  modern  masters, 
because,  in  their  writings  or  buildings,  the  best  precepts 
are  obtained.  Ranging  the  names  in  order  of  merit,  we 
have  Palladio,  Scarnozzi,  Vignola,  Alberti,  De  Lorme, 
Serlio,  Viola,  Cataneo,  Boullant,  Barbaro. 

The  graces  of  the  Palladian  school  were  caught  by  the 
congenial  spirit  of  Inigo  Jones,  in  whose  labours  the 
English  school  of  classical  architecture  took  its  rise,  and, 


296 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


we  might  almost  say,  received  its  completion.  Whitehall 
and  Greenwich  will  rank  among  the  finest  architecture  of 
Europe  —  evidences  at  once  of  the  skill  of  the  artist,  and 
the  taste  of  Charles  I.  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  in  the 
succeeding  reign.  writh  the  same  chaste  design,  brought 
to  the  profession  more  general  science  than  his  predeces- 
sor. His  opportunities,  from  the  consequences  of  the 
great  fire,  were  greater  than  perhaps  have  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  any  other  modern ;  and,  in  the  erection  of  the  Me- 
tropolitan Cathedral,  he  proved  the  capabilities  of  his 
genius  to  be  equal  to  his  good  fortune.  He  has  reared 
the  second,  and  barely  second,  edifice  in  the  world. 
The  art  has  nothing  finer  than  the  western  front  —  so 
rich,  so  noble,  and,  notwithstanding  the  double  arcade,  so 
pure.  On  the  whole,  the  exterior  of  St  Paul's  is  to  be 
preferred,  both  for  effect  and  design,  to  St  Peter's.  Not 
so  the  interior.  The  Roman  Basilicon  opens  upon  the 
view  with  a  calm,  majestic,  expansive  capaciousness ;  the 
English  cathedral  is  broken  into  parts,  and  scattered  in 
its  entireness. 

Jones  and  Wren  have  remained  the  great  masters  of 
the  English  school :  though  Vanbrugh  hardly  deserved 
Swift's  satire  — 

Lie  heavy  on  him,  earth,  for  he 
Laid  many  a  heavy  load  on  thee ; 

while  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  in  spite  of  Pope,  did  un- 
derstand building.  Gibbs,  Kent,  Hawksmore,  left  no 
successors;  and  during  the  reign  of  George  II.,  English 
architecture  was  at  its  lowrest.  His  late  majesty  is  report- 
ed to  have  understood,  and  certainly  had  a  taste  for,  the 
science  ;  but  his  majesty  was  scarcely  happy  in  the  artist 
whom  he  patronized,  Chambers,  the  architect  of  Somer- 
set-house, and  whose  character  may  be  thus  summed 
up :  —  he  introduced  the  Chinese  style,  and  denied  that 


ARCHITECTURE. 


297 


the  Parthenon  ever  existed,  or  that,  if  it  did,  it  must  have 
been  a  clumsy  piece  of  business.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
pursue  the  subject.  For  the  mixed  Roman  —  the  mod- 
ern Gothic  —  and  Oriental  styles,  which  have  since  pre- 
vailed, we  can  find  no  place  among  the  modes  of  art. 

The  most  recent  improvements  in  the  British  metropo- 
lis are  in  better  taste  than  those  immediately  preceding ; 
but  in  following  the  varied  forms  of  buildings  among  the 
Romans,  rather  than  the  simpler  outline  of  the  Greeks, 
though  no  error  has  been  committed,  but  perhaps  the 
contrary,  sufficient  care  has  not  been  employed  to  place 
these  varied  masses  advantageously,  both  as  respects  their 
own  grandeur,  and  their  decorative  effect  in  street  archi- 
tecture. 

A  more  promising  aspect,  also,  of  things,  invites  atten- 
tion to  the  Northern  capital.  This  singularly  romantic 
and  beautiful  city,  combining  the  associations  of  centu- 
ries with  our  admiration  of  the  living  age,  and  exhibiting 
in  its  buildings  the  rudest  and  the  most  refined  exemplars', 
constitutes  a  feature  in  the  history  of  our  national  archi- 
tecture, and,  among  the  cities  of  Europe,  an  isolated 
instance  of  undecided  mastery  between  art  and  nature. 
The  earlier  of  the  new  buildings  of  the  Scottish  metro- 
polis, are,  generally  speaking,  in  the  Palladian,  or  Roman 
style,  with  the  exception  of  the  college.  Adams,  in  the 
last,  has  left  a  most  splendid  proof  of  genius.  Viewed, 
as  it  ought  to  be,  in  itself,  within  the  quadrangle,  it  fills 
the  eye  with  a  burst  of  splendid  magnificence,  equal  to 
any  effect  we  have  ever  experienced  in  modern  building. 
Recent  structures  are  in  the  true  Grecian  modes,  tran- 
scripts from  the  Theseum  and  the  Parthenon.  We  re- 
joice in  this ;  it  is  the  only  source  whence  renewed  vigor 
can  be  derived  to  our  fallen  art  —  for  fallen  it  is  at  pre- 
sent among  us ;  nor  do  we  perceive,  in  the  British  empire, 


298 


THE  FINE  ARTS. 


such  decided  marks,  not  of  reviving,  but  of  vigorous 
taste,  as  in  the  Scottish  school  of  architecture.  The 
National  Monument  on  the  Calton,  emulates,  in  gigantic 
mass,  the  Athenian  structures  themselves  ;  while  in  the 
new  High  School  is  presented  a  perfect  gem  of  art  — 
where  the  purest  Greek  modes  are  combined  and  adapted 
with  the  happiest  originality.  The  laborious  and  useful 
investigations  which  have  rendered  our  artists  so  well 
acquainted  with  even  the  minutest  details  of  the  Greek 
forms,  cannot  remain  without  fruit  —  provided  architects 
will  be  true  to  the  best  interests  of  their  profession.  Let 
it  ever  be  borne  in  mind,  that,  magnificent  as  are  the 
specimens  of  Roman  skill,  we  desert  the  parent  source 
when  for  these  we  forsake  the  remains  of  Grecian  genius 
and  art. 

On  reviewing  these  pages,  it  scarcely  appears,  that  in- 
cidents or  principles  of  importance  have  been  overlooked, 
without  such  notice  as  limits  permitted.  In  treating  of 
the  Fine  Arts,  indeed,  the  subject  of  patronage  may 
seem  to  demand  more  separate  consideration  than  is  be- 
stowed in  occasional  remarks.  Brief,  however,  as  these 
are,  they  will  be  found  to  contain,  on  this  question,  the 
impartial  decisions  of  history,  which  uniformly  declares 
the  only  wise,  wholesome,  and  inspiring  patronage  to 
consist  in  national  sympathy  and  national  regard  for  the 
objects,  purposes,  and  professors  of  Art.  Here  the  coun- 
tenance and  protection  of  government  are  necessarily  in- 
cluded, as  affording  the  most  distinguished  assurance  of 
the  existence  of  this  feeling,  and  as  giving  direction  to 
the  national  efforts.  In  Britain,  the  genius  of  our  insti- 
tutions, and  the  character  of  the  people  require,  while 
they  will  add  power  to,  the  effects  of  this  union.  These 
institutions  are  more  national  —  the  opulence  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  subject,  abler  to  strengthen  the  hands  and 


ARCHITECTURE.  299 

to  aid  the  designs  of  government,  than  in  any  other  em- 
pire that  ever  existed.  Our  Fine  Arts  have  hitherto  been 
the  only  constituent  of  our  national  glory  to  which  the 
cheering  influence  of  this  united  sympathy  has  been 
denied. 


THE  END. 


